


Adventures in the Company of Dwarves

by thewalrus_said



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 38,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield recruits friends, family, and the occasional random stranger in a quest to reclaim his homeland. Absolutely nothing goes according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Dis

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> This started as a way to put my Hobbit feelings somewhere so that I could sleep at night. It ballooned.
> 
> For this fic, I took a merry romp through book and movie canon, picking what I liked best, adding details where I needed to, and trying to make it all shake out consistently. For example, I have kept Kili as the youngest from the books, but Balin is still the oldest, as he seems to be in the movies. I have kept to the movie plots for the most part, using the book as a framework for what we haven't seen onscreen yet. All of the Company is present - the specifically-tagged Dwarves are POV characters.
> 
> This will be a Kili/Thorin fic by the end, so I have tagged for uncle/nephew incest. However, in this story, they have met approximately twice before the Company forms, and there is no real family feeling between them. If this will be a problem for you, feel free to back-button, with my blessing. There is another background pairing that will pop up by the end, and I will tag for it when we get there.
> 
> I think that's everything!

Dis opens the door, dishrag still in one hand, and has to clutch it tighter to keep from slamming the door shut again. After a moment, she loosens her grip on the cloth and says, “Hello, brother.”

“Hello, sister,” Thorin replies, looking vastly uncomfortable on her doorstep. The sight delights her, and she lets him squirm for a few moments more before stepping aside to let him through. “How have you been?” he asks, relaxing slightly as he passes through the doorway.

“Well enough.” Dis takes a seat next to the fireplace and gestures at the chair on the other side. Thorin sits. “Things are quiet. Calm. The way I like it.”

Thorin nods. “I’m glad to hear it. And the boys?”

Dis leans back in her chair and regards him. It’s almost impressive, she reflects, how he makes it sound like a casual question. Were she anyone else she would believe it, but he is her brother, whether or not she has seen him in the past few decades. “And now we come to the reason for your visit.” She locks away his guilty look deep in her mind, for a rainy day. “You’re here to take my boys.”

“Dis-”

“No,” she says, leaning forward again. “No. It may be quiet around here but I still hear things, especially about my beloved brother. You don’t get to show up on my doorstep after nearly twenty years and take my boys on a mad quest. Not without going through me first.”

Thorin looks at his hands, clenched together in his lap, and then meets her eyes. “I didn’t intend to take them both.”

“Mahal damn you, that does not help,” Dis snarls. Through the blood rushing in her ears, she can hear a light thump from just beyond the kitchen door. Ignoring it, she goes on, “You expect me to be satisfied with that, grateful that at least you are leaving me one of my sons?”

“Of course not,” Thorin says. To his credit, his gaze does not waver for a moment. “I was not trying to appease you. I know I couldn’t if I tried. I was attempting to, as you put it, go through you first.” Dis glares, then gives a sharp nod. “I want to take only Fili with me. It is too risky to bring both of my heirs on a quest that will, I admit, be very dangerous. Besides, Kili is young. I would not pull him from your side yet.”

Thorin hears the thump from the kitchen this time, and raises his eyebrows at Dis. She ignores it. “Kili won’t stand for it. And what’s more, Fili won’t stand for it, not if it means they’re separated.”

“Are they that close?”

“They’re worse than you and Frerin were,” Dis says, and regrets it almost instantly. Thorin drops his eyes back to his hands for a moment, but then looks back up at her with a small smile. “Well, I wouldn’t want to separate them, not if it will hurt them that much. If Fili wants to stay, of course I will not force him.” He stands and looks at the door for a moment before turning back to Dis. “Is Fili here tonight?” he says, slightly louder than they have been speaking. “I’d like to speak with him about it.”

Another thump, and then the sound of two pairs of feet scurrying away from the door. Dis can’t help but give a wry grin. “Yes, he’s here. I’ll go and get him.”

She finds her sons in the backyard, deep in conversation. “Fili,” she calls, and they both look at her. “Your uncle would like to speak with you, if you don’t mind.” Fili whispers a few more words to Kili and then leaves him, nodding to his mother as he passes. Kili follows after a few moments, stopping next to Dis. “You boys should be sneakier about listening at keyholes by now,” she says, leaning closer to him and whispering. “You certainly have enough practice.”

Kili laughs. “We usually are better at it. Fili got angry, though, and I had to sit on him.”

Dis smiles. “Did you two come to a decision?”

That takes the grin from Kili’s face, and he looks at her gravely. “Fili’s going to accept.”

Dis nods. “But?”

“But I can’t stay behind, and Fili doesn’t want me to either. So I’ve got to come up with a plan to convince Thorin to let me come as well.” Kili is still looking at her. “Please don’t be angry, Mother.”

“I’m not angry.” Dis pulls her son into a hug. “Obviously I’d prefer to have you both at home, but if Fili’s determined to go, I’d rather have you there to keep an eye on him.” She lets go of him and he steps back, the smile back on his face. Dis feels tears behind her eyes and blinks them away. “Do you have any ideas? Thorin will take some convincing.”

“I’m working on it. I think I might have an idea but I”ll need to go into town tomorrow to make sure.”

“Very mysterious.”

“I don’t want to jinx it.” Kili kisses her on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” He extends his arm and she takes it, letting him lead her back in through the kitchen.

They find Thorin and Fili in the living room; both stand when Dis and Kili come in. “Kili,” Thorin says, coming forward to clasp his forearm. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” Kili replies. “Are you staying long?”

“Unfortunately not,” Thorin says, letting go. “Business takes me away. I should be back in about five weeks, though.”

“Until then,” Kili says, bowing his head slightly. Fili does the same, and then both of them leave. The sound of their footsteps speeds up once they are out of the room, until the echoes fade as they descend to their shared bedroom.

“You’ve done well by them,” Thorin says, breaking the sudden silence. “They’re good lads. Fili has the spark of adventure in him, I can see it already.”

“Kili’s the same,” Dis says. “He’s not going to make it easy for you to leave him behind. There’s already a plan cooking in that brain of his.”

“I look forward to it.” Thorin sounds genuinely amused, and when Dis looks at him he smiles at her. “I’ll take my leave now. Goodnight, sister.”

“And you. Until we meet again, brother.” She walks him to the door and shuts it behind her.

_Three days later_

Dis takes one look out the kitchen window and turns to her oldest son, sitting at the table and trying to look innocent as he finishes off his breakfast. “Now, I’m fairly certain I already know the answer to this question, but I want to be sure. What exactly is your brother doing?”

Fili swallows. “He’s teaching himself to shoot, on the grounds that there are very few Dwarf archers in the world, and even fewer competent ones. If he gets good enough at it, then Thorin can’t justify going without him.”

“Right,” Dis says, nodding. “That’s what I thought.” She turns back to the window. “It’s a good plan, actually.”

“He’s quite proud of it. He went to Bifur and Bofur the morning after Thorin left and they cooked something up for him.”

“They make toys, not weapons,” Dis retorts, still watching Kili practice drawing and releasing.

“They sell toys, but they do make weapons.” Fili gets up and stands next to her. “They had a bow already in the works, as it happens.”

“How much did they charge him?”

“He brought everything he had saved but they wouldn’t take money. Said they’d be happy to help the nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, according to him.”

Dis can feel Fili looking at her, and then she understands. “Of course. They’re going too.”

“That’s how it seems.” Fili nudges her arm with his. “He’s got five weeks to get good before Thorin comes back. Think he’ll manage it?”

“Your brother is the most stubborn Dwarf I’ve ever met, if he sets his mind to something.” Dis turns from the window. “He’ll be good enough by then.”

_Five weeks later_

Thorin arrives just after midday. “We weren’t expecting you until later,” Dis remarks, letting him in.

“Why’s that?” he asks, removing his overcoat and hanging it on the spare hook by the door.

“Something about you requires the cover of darkness. I haven’t seen you in daylight for over thirty years.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Thorin concedes, smiling. “How have you been?”

“Enjoying what time left I have with my sons.”

Thorin looks at her, a surprising amount of regret in his eyes. “Will you ever forgive me for this?”

“We’ll just add it to the list of problems between us,” she says, thrown by the emotion in his voice.

“I would like to try and fix what’s passed,” he says, still holding her gaze. “It saddens me, that we are not as close as a brother and sister should be.”

She can’t help but laugh. “Well, you picked the worst time possible to start. Return my boys to me, alive and well, and we’ll talk.” Before he can say anything else, she goes on, “Come on, they’re in the backyard. There’s something you should see.”

He follows her through to the kitchen and catches sight of Fili and Kili through the windows. As though they had planned it, Fili throws an apple high into the air, and Kili sends an arrow through it at the peak of its arc. “He’s been practicing for weeks,” Dis says. “It’s his case for why he shouldn’t be left behind.”

Thorin stands still for a moment, watching Kili bring down another apple, then says, “It’s a good case.”

Dis nods. “Yes, I know. Go on and tell him so.” She follows her brother out the back door.

“Alright,” Thorin says, and Fili and Kili both turn to him, matching expressions of surprise sliding quickly into innocence.

“Uncle! We weren’t expecting you until this evening,” Fili says as Kili lowers his bow.

“Yes, so I’ve been hearing.” Thorin is fully smiling now, Dis can see. “You’ve made your point, Kili.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Kili says. He turns to Fili, who shrugs. The deception is somewhat spoiled by the grins both are fighting back.

“Of course not.” Thorin nods to Kili. “Welcome to the quest, if you wish to come. I assume your brother has told you of our aim.”

“He has, and I do.” Kili sweeps a bow. “I’m at your service.”

“Good.” Thorin gestures back towards the house. “Come, we have matters to discuss. I’ve just learned where we shall be meeting Gandalf, and it requires some explaining.”

“Gandalf?” Dis hears Kili mutter to his brother as they follow Thorin inside. “You didn’t mention Gandalf was coming.”

“Thorin didn’t mention it to me,” Fili mutters back, and then they pass through the door. Dis allows herself exactly half a minute for tears, and then she straightens her back, wipes her eyes, and follows her sons inside.


	2. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little Halfling who opens the door, whose name has flown out of Kili’s head on the journey, looks extremely unhappy to see them - he goes so far as to try and slam the door in their faces. It takes a good bit of muscle to get inside, but once they do, the fellow seems inclined to let them stay. Kili puts it down to differing hospitality customs and goes to help Dwalin with the table.

“Do you see it?” Fili asks, squinting to scan the doors they pass on the path.

“No, not yet,” Kili answers, half a step behind him to double-check. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“Yes, I’m sure. The map was clear.”

“Maybe Gandalf changed his mind and we’re not meeting here anymore - wait, wait, I see it!” Kili points to a green door, set a little ways above the path. “It’s that one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I can see the mark. Let’s go.”

The little Halfling who opens the door, whose name has flown out of Kili’s head on the journey, looks extremely unhappy to see them - he goes so far as to try and slam the door in their faces. It takes a good bit of muscle to get inside, but once they do, the fellow seems inclined to let them stay. Kili puts it down to differing hospitality customs and goes to help Dwalin with the table.

He doesn’t realize how nervous he has been until he finds himself relaxing a few minutes into dinner. His brother is nearby, and most of the Dwarves around him he knows: Bifur and Bofur’s toy shop is barely three miles from his home and made Fili his first sword without telling their mother first; Bombur lives with his brother and cousin, and slips Kili meat pies and cheese whenever he goes into town; Nori stayed with them for a few days on his way out of the area, and taught Fili and Kili how to throw knives before his brothers swept him away; and Balin has been around nearly Kili’s whole life. The rest are close enough kin that Kili has at least heard of them, and by the time the second round of ale is finished he might have known them his whole life.

Then Thorin arrives.

Kili can’t help but lose a little bit of his easy joy as his uncle comes in and looks the Halfling, introduced by Gandalf as Bilbo Baggins, over. Fili steals up behind him and whispers, “Does the halfling know who he’s talking to?” in Kili’s ear.

“It doesn’t seem like Gandalf even warned him about us,” Balin interjects in a low voice, as Thorin is handed a heaping plate by Dori and shown to the head of the table. “I doubt the wizard thought to mention about Thorin. Come on, lads, back to the table.” The twelve Dwarves squeeze and shuffle their way back around to the chairs. No one walks across the tabletop this time.

After Bilbo faints, the house is quiet. The Dwarves split up into groups and talk amongst themselves, for the most part. Bofur elects himself Nori’s keeper and follows him around, pulling their host’s belongings out of his hands when he picks them up, but everyone else is mostly still. Fili and Kili sit themselves down in an empty corner.

“Do you get the feeling there’s a story about our grandfather that Mother’s never told us?” Fili asks after a few minutes of silence. “Thorin’s face, when Gandalf mentioned him...”

“He looked like someone had kicked him,” Kili agrees. “I wonder if we could get it out of Balin.”

“If Mother kept quiet about it then there must be a reason.” Fili shakes his head. “Balin won’t tell us, he’s too loyal to her and Thorin to talk about it if they won’t.”

Kili looks over at Balin and Thorin, huddled together by the pantry, deep in fond conversation. “We could always ask Thorin?” he suggests. He catches Fili’s eye and they both break out into grins. “Maybe not.”

“Do you suppose eventually he’ll get less frightening?” Fili asks, and jumps when Bofur’s voice comes from behind him.

“He’s not that frightening, lads,” Bofur says, stowing his whittling knife and the new pipe he was working on into a pocket. “He’s just a little too serious a little too much of the time. He’ll loosen up.”

“How well do you know him?” Kili asks. Fili jabs him in the side but Bofur just laughs.

“It’s alright. I know him well enough, better than you two do, anyway. He knew Bifur in Erebor, see, so me’n Bombur got to know him while he was visiting.”

“So he came a lot, then?” Kili presses his knee to his brother’s at the hardness in Fili’s voice.

Bofur seems to understand. “Don’t take it personally, lads. There’s not a Man, Elf, or Dwarf he wouldn’t kill for you two, or for your mother.”

Fili just nods, eyes downcast. Bofur reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake. “You’re too gloomy. Don’t you know we’re going on an adventure?” That gets a smile from Fili, finally, and Kili shoots a grateful look at their friend. Bofur winks back. “Come on, it’s about to start.”

Kili looks around and notices that the room they are in is nearly deserted; all the Dwarves have congregated in Bilbo’s tiny living room. Bofur and Fili go in; Kili stops to grab a deserted mug of ale and finish it before following. By the time he gets there, the singing has begun. Kili catches Fili’s eye and they both stay quiet, as does Ori. The song marks the official opening of their quest, but it isn’t for them.

Fili and Kili bed down in the corner they had been sitting in before, choosing to lean against the wall rather than wrestle their bedrolls open. Kili waits until he’s certain no one will come closer than Nori, curled up in front of the china cabinet down the hall, before he whispers to Fili, “Are you really okay spending this much time with Thorin? I know you don’t like him.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Fili whispers back. “I like him fine, that’s the problem. He should have been around more than he was, Kili, he didn’t even come to our father’s funeral.”

“I know that.” The memory still stings, Balin’s apologetic expression as he tells their stone-faced mother that her brother will not be attending her husband’s funeral, Fili’s hand clenched around his own so tightly that Kili had bruises for a week. Kili shifts, moving his head closer to his brother’s. “Maybe that’s what he’s trying to do with this. Make it up to us.”

Fili’s quiet for a moment, and then says, “Let’s make a deal. I’ll do the resenting, you do the bonding. It’ll all shake out to even by the time we get to Erebor.”

“Deal.” Kili drops his head onto Fili’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “Sleep well.’

“And you, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are bread and love.


	3. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin feels a stab of regret somewhere in his ribcage, that a descendent of Durin should be so cut off from his history, and then a sudden urge to return to the Blue Mountains and apologize to Dis.

Thorin catches Kili on his way back from the nearest stream, a bag of freshly-washed bowls and spoons in his hand. “Can I have a moment?”

“Of course,” Kili says, and drops the bag to the ground next to him. “That was getting heavy anyway,” he adds, gesturing to it. “Glad for a break.”

“I don’t want to take too much of your time,” Thorin starts. As he says the words he realizes how pathetic they sound; the Company is resting for the night, they have nothing but time to kill until dawn. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was...unkind.”

“Oh.” Kili drops his eyes briefly before looking back up at Thorin. “You don’t need to apologize. Fili and I should apologize to you for that, actually. And we are sorry. We didn’t know.”

“I was too hard on you. It didn’t occur to me your mother wouldn’t have told you about the Orc Wars.”

Kili shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and Thorin regrets bringing it up. “She doesn’t like to talk about - well, actually, there’s a lot of things she doesn’t like to talk about. And so Balin won’t talk about it either, so Fili and I only know what we can get out of Bofur about what happened after the dragon came, which isn’t much. Barely the basics, really,” Kili finishes.

Thorin feels a stab of regret somewhere in his ribcage, that a descendent of Durin should be so cut off from his history, and then a sudden urge to return to the Blue Mountains and apologize to Dis. Instead, he takes a step towards Kili. “I can understand your mother’s reticence. Those days do not shine in our family’s history. However, if you wish to become better informed, know that you can ask me anything, and I’ll answer it as best I can.”

“Thank you,” Kili says, nodding. “I will.”

“And please pass my apology along to your brother as well,” Thorin adds as Kili reaches for the neck of the bag.

“Or you could tell him yourself,” Kili retorts, hefting it across one shoulder again. “He won’t bite.”

“Seems like he wants to,” Thorin mutters before he can stop himself. Kili just laughs.

“Maybe, but he won’t.” Kili starts walking back towards camp, so Thorin falls into step beside him. After a few steps, though, Kili halts again. “The problem is that everyone, even Bofur and Bombur, know you better than we do. I don’t mind so much, but Fili does, and it won’t get better by avoiding him.”

Thorin feels another stab behind his ribs, but he just nods. “You’re right, of course. I”ll speak with him. Would you like a hand with that bag?” he adds, as it slips off Kili’s shoulder.

“No, that’s alright. It stays up fine when I’m moving, and we’re nearly there. Thanks, though.” Kili wrestles it back onto his shoulder and the two of them again start back to camp.

A five-minute walk in companionable silence puts them back among the rest of the Company. Kili brings the bag of dishes to Bombur, and then is flagged by Ori for their nightly target practice. Kili catches Thorin’s eye after retrieving his bow and gestures with head at Fili, who is sitting on a boulder and throwing knives at a nearby log. The image does not make Thorin any more at ease about talking with him, but he nods at Kili and walks over.

“You’re good at that,” Thorin observes as he approaches Fili. The younger Dwarf looks up at him as he pulls his most recent throw out of the log.

“Thanks,” he says, sitting back down and moving a bag off the boulder across from him for Thorin to sit on. “Nori taught me. Taught Kili too, but he doesn’t like it as much. Says once you’ve used them you’ve got no more weapons.”

“Says the archer,” Thorin notes, sitting down.

“Well, at least once you’ve shot an arrow you’ve still got the means to shoot more.” Fili polishes the knives as he talks, and sets them aside for sharpening. “Or so he says. I don’t understand the difference, myself.”

“People get touchy about their weapons. Best not to argue, I’ve found.”

“I wouldn’t want one of his arrows coming at me, no,” Fili agrees. “He’s a good shot.”

Thorin smiles and looks down at his hands, crossed and hanging between his knees. He looks back up and says, “I wanted to talk to you about something, if I might.”

“Thought this was coming.” Fili fills up his cheeks and blows the air out sharply, looking away. “I’ll spare you the trouble. You’re sorry for shouting at us yesterday, it’s not our fault that we didn’t know the history, and you’d like this journey to be an opportunity for us to start over and get to know each other properly.” He looks back at Thorin. “Something like that?”

“Roughly, yes,” he says, refusing to drop his gaze despite the rush of shame at Fili’s words and tone. “Although I had hoped to make it sound a bit more sincere than that, since I do mean every word.”

“I know you do.” Fili looks away and Thorin takes the opportunity to blink several times. “I just don’t believe it’ll shake out that way.”

“Can I ask why not?”

“The way I see it, we bond and get to know each other and all that straight up to the Mountain, we get rid of the dragon, and then what? Then you’re King Under the Mountain, and Kili and I are just the sons of your half-sister and a commoner whose funeral you didn’t even see fit to go to.” Thorin can sense genuine anger under Fili’s matter-of-fact tone, but doesn’t dare to interrupt. “I’m your heir now, but that’ll only last for however long it takes whatever wife you pick to have a son, and then it’ll just be me, Kili and Mother again. And that’s fine, we’ve managed on our own for this long. I just don’t see the point in pretending anything will be different when this is all over.”

Thorin sits for a few moments, letting Fili’s speech sink in, and then asks, “Then why come at all?”

“Adventure,” Fili says, flashing a quick grin. “Not every day you get asked to fight a dragon. Besides, I may not know much of the history, but from what I do, I know I believe in the cause.”

Thorin nods; he’ll take that, even if Fili can’t believe in him. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m glad that, whatever the reason, you decided to join me. Most of your points are ones I’d like to argue, but the best way I can see to convince you is through time, so I’ll refrain for now. As for your parents -” he holds up a hand to forestall Fili’s interruption. “As for your parents, I regret that I have allowed my relationship with your mother to deteriorate as much as it has. Know that I have never thought less of you or your brother, no matter what happened or will happen between me and Dis. All I can do is apologize for my absence after the death of your father. I cannot make that right, and I cannot excuse it.” Thorin holds Fili’s gaze for a few long seconds before Fili nods, sharp and quick. “I won’t take up any more of your time. My gratitude, for hearing me out.”

Thorin stands to leave, but before he can take a step, Fili calls out, “One more thing.” Thorin turns. “I saw you come back with Kili before, and I want to make one thing clear,” Fili says. “It may not have been what you were doing, but my brother is not to be used as practice for any future discussions we may have. For one, he deserves better than that. For another, you won’t get an accurate result. He’s determined to forgive you anything, see, so what works on him won’t necessarily work on me.”

“It wasn’t, but noted,” Thorin says, and walks away.

He has to take himself away from the main body of the camp for a while, to let the conversation settle in his mind. He ‘s always known he’s let his family down for a long time, but he had not realized how much until he looked his heir in the eye and realized that he was not only a stranger, but a semi-hostile one.

After about half an hour, Dwalin comes up and sits next to him. “You alright?” he asks, passing over a chunk of bread.

“Not really.” Thorin takes a bite, following it down with a large mouthful of water to put off asking his next question. “How badly have I ruined my family? Honestly.”

“Pretty badly,” Dwalin rumbles, and Thorin has to laugh. “There’s not many of them left to patch things up with, though. So that’s good.”

“What’s that phrase about silver linings?” Thorin murmurs, taking another bite of bread.

Dwalin regards him for a moment, then slaps a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much about it. Fili and Kili are good lads. The problem’s just that everyone else here knew it before you. You’ll catch up. And then they’ll bring Dis around, or Balin will. Blood always wins in the end.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am. You’re just too impatient for your own good.” Dwalin stands and holds out a hand to help Thorin up as well. “Come on, let’s get back. Dori’s starting to fret you’ve been eaten by a mountain troll.”

There are no mountain trolls in this area of the world, which Dori knows as well as Thorin does, but Thorin allows himself to be pulled to his feet and led back to camp.


	4. Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur can practically feel Thorin’s eyes on the back of his head through his hat. He’d never tell Fili and Kili to scatter, they’re welcome at his fire anytime and they know it, but Thorin’s scrutiny is about to drive Bofur up the wall, and he can tell a serious conversation is on its way.

Bofur can practically feel Thorin’s eyes on the back of his head through his hat. He’d never tell Fili and Kili to scatter, they’re welcome at his fire anytime and they know it, but Thorin’s scrutiny is about to drive Bofur up the wall, and he can tell a serious conversation is on its way.

It almost happens one night by the cookfire. Thorin walks up to Bofur after dinner, but before he can open his mouth Fili comes running into camp yelling about trolls, and all conversations, serious or otherwise, are forgotten in the heat of battle and the trolls’ cookfire. By the time Gandalf has them down and everybody’s got their own clothes back on, Thorin’s mind is firmly fixed on troll-gold. Bofur takes the opportunity to try and figure out how to scold a Longbeard king without getting his own beard handed to him.

Bofur’s nerves stay frazzled even after the adrenaline dies down. He likes talking, but over the course of his life, many people have told him the world might be a better place if he did less of it, and he tries to take it to heart. Lack of practice means that an impending serious conversation leaves him more nervous than an Orc in the sun, and he’s just made up his mind to get the damn thing over with when Gandalf leads them around a corner and the Valley of Rivendell opens up underneath them.

The food’s not bad, for all the others are complaining, and Bofur’s heard worse music out of a flute. He catches several Elves eyeing up his hat and tips it to them before they scurry away, as fast as Elves can scurry, which turns out to be surprisingly fast for such graceful beings.

Thorin and Balin slip off to argue with Gandalf and the leader of the Elves, and Bombur reveals a pack of sausages left over from the dinner at Bag End all those weeks ago. Despite the proper dinner a bit of tension remains in the air, born of a Longbeard’s ability to hold a grudge, so Bofur throws a sausage to Bombur and the Company erupts in laughter.

Bofur catches sight of a couple of shadows moving away from the edges of the darkness around them, and supposes someone will be hearing about the table broken by Dwarves. He points them out to Bifur, who finishes off the last of his roasted broccoli and shoos Bombur away from where he still sits in the wreckage. The table will be rebuilt by moonset, and the stronger for it, no doubt.

Eventually Thorin and Balin return, both of them frowning. Bofur moves off to an empty corner of the room and fills his pipe. Sure enough, Thorin comes to stand with him. “Have a nice chin-wag with the Elves?”

“It was informative,” Thorin admits. “I’d hardly call it nice.”

“But you got what you needed?”

“That we did.”

“Good.”

Bofur puffs on his pipe in silence for a few seconds before Thorin shifts next to him and says, “There was a matter I wished to discuss with you.”

“No need.” Bofur shakes some loose ash from the pipe’s bowl and relights it.

Thorin gives a huff of laughter. “Why does everyone keep doing that?”

“Because you’re obvious as Dwarf armor on an Elf,” Bofur informs him. “You wanted to discuss how better to relate to your sister-sons, Fili and Kili over there. You’ve been trying, everyone can see that, but it’s not going as well as you’d hope. Am I right?” Thorin nods. Bofur sends thanks to Mahal that he looks amused rather than angry. “Well, then, there’s nothing to discuss. You’ve been in a battle with them now, yes?” Thorin nods again. “The fact of the matter is, you’re awful at being family. But you’re good at being a brother-in-arms.”

Thorin no longer looks amused. “So you’re saying I’ve lost them as kin and the best I can hope for is comradeship.”

“Pretty much.” Bofur takes the pipe from his mouth. “Those lads love their mother more than anything, and from what I can tell, that’s not something you can do.”

“You’re dancing close to the edge of what I’ll tolerate from you, Bofur.” Thorin’s face is dark, his voice darker.

“Well, tact isn’t something I’m good at, and you knew that before you walked up.” Bofur fills his pipe again, lights it, and takes a puff before continuing. “You’ve fought beside them now, and that’ll give you something to work from. I’ve got nothing for you aside from that.”

Thorin stands for a long moment, frowning at Bofur, who meets his gaze steadily, before his brow unfurrows. “You’re right, I knew what I was getting into with you. And I do thank you for your honesty,” he adds, clapping a hand on Bofur’s shoulder. “I just don’t like being told I’ve lost before I’ve begun.”

“Who’s says you’ve lost anything?” Bofur gestures to where Fili and Kili are sitting with Ori, watching Bifur put the finishing touches on the remade table. “They’re right there. Nobody’s lost anyone. Now buck up and tell us if we’re bedding down for the night or moving on.”

“Moving on,” Thorin says, and then steps into the gathering proper and raises his voice. “Everyone pack up, we’re moving on tonight. We’ll get a little ways into the mountain at least, before we sleep.” A general groan comes out of the group of Dwarves, and Bombur rolls over in protest, but Bifur shoves him up upright again and everyone begins rolling their belongings back into their bags.

“What about Gandalf?” Ori asks, strapping his bedroll to his pack. “Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

“Gandalf will catch up,” Balin assures him, looking to Thorin. Thorin nods, and Balin goes on, “We’ll wait for him up in the mountains. He won’t be long finding us.”

“Come on,” Thorin says, taking the lead and walking towards the exit. “The dawn will break soon. We have no time to waste.”

Behind him, Bofur hears Fili’s mutter of, “I didn’t know time spent sleeping was wasted,” and Kili’s answering laugh. Fili continues to grumble about how uncomfortable rocks are to sleep on, no matter how close their kinship to Dwarves, and it’s all Bofur can do to keep a straight face when Thorin looks back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are love.


	5. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is only Balin’s grip, suddenly fisted in the back of Kili’s jacket, that keeps him from leaping when the goblins begin beating Thorin, and then a burst of bright light sends the whole world into chaos.

There’s nothing in the world smells worse than goblin, Kili decides. It’s not enough that they’re hideous and greedy and currently holding them all captive, no, they have to _reek_ as well.

It’s another few moments before Kili realizes that those are not actually his thoughts, but Fili muttering under his breath next to him. He bites his cheek to hold in a smile and leans closer to his brother. “They’re going to kill us first if you don’t stop that.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Fili says, and jerks his shoulder out of the grip of the goblin holding him. The goblin screeches and grabs hold again, tighter. Fili winces and starts muttering again.

Kili scans the mass of goblins teeming around them again. He counts off twelve Dwarves and himself, same as before, and still no sign of Bilbo. _I hope he didn’t get trampled._ To his left, he can see Thorin’s head swivelling, making the same count. Thorin catches his eye, and Kili tries to muster up a small smile of reassurance. It doesn’t seem to be effective, and it falls off Kili’s face as he catches sight of the largest goblin he has ever seen or heard of. It stays an intimidating sight for all of ten seconds, and then it opens its enormous mouth and starts singing.

A wave of emotion like he has never felt sweeps over Kili, made up of fear, disgust, anger, horror, and, he is surprised to find, pity for the goblins trodden under the Great Goblin’s feet and battered by his club. Kili cannot be sure what shows on his face as first Oin and then Bofur go up against the massive creature, but Thorin puts his hand on Kili’s shoulder after a moment, so it cannot be good. It is only then that Kili realizes that Fili is no longer beside him, and presses back into Thorin’s hand with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

It is only Balin’s grip, suddenly fisted in the back of Kili’s jacket, that keeps him from leaping when the goblins begin beating Thorin, and then a burst of bright light sends the whole world into chaos. Kili does not know how or when he gets his sword and bow back, only that one moment they are in his hands, the next his sword is buried in a goblin’s neck, and then he is running for his life along the rickety bridges of Goblin Town.

He still cannot find Fili but Thorin is constantly in his line of sight, spinning and slicing like a whirlwind, and Balin flits in and own, drawing goblins to him and then taking them out all at once. Time blurs and fades into chaos until finally Dwalin halts in front of him, Kili almost slamming into his back. He looks around Dwalin in time to see Gandalf slice through the Great Goblin’s massive waddle, and then the bridge is falling and everyone around him is screaming, and he doesn’t realize they have come to a halt until he looks up and sees the swarm of goblins climbing down.

Finally, finally, they escape, racing through a small door that Kili would never have seen without Gandalf to point it out. Time begins to slow back to a normal pace, Kili’s heartbeat following suit only when he sees Fili and pulls him into a hug. Gandalf herds them further downhill into the safety of the trees, and then asks, “Where’s Bilbo?”

The grim certainty on Thorin’s face hurts almost more than the thought of Bilbo’s death or desertion, and Kili is more relieved than the situation calls for when Bilbo steps out from behind a tree and wipes Thorin’s expression clean.

“I don’t know about you, but I fancy a bit of a sit-down about now,” Fili whispers in his ear as they start moving again, following a faint trail through the woods. “If nearly being eaten by goblins doesn’t earn us a rest, we’ll never stop moving again.”

Kili grins. “It’ll be dark soon, maybe they’ll let us stop then. Thorin has to be feeling that beating, now the adrenaline’s wearing off. I don’t think he can go for much longer,” he adds, nodding to the leader of their Company, who is indeed walking with a well-disguised but present limp.

“Durin’s Death, but I hope so,” Fili responds, and as the last word leaves his lips, the Wargs attack. Fili has just enough time for a curse before he begins to run, Kili hot on his heels.

They end up in the trees, surrounded by Wargs, Orcs, and fire. Kili is sure his hands will be nigh-unusable for a good while, if he lives long enough, but in the thrill of the fight he feels no pain, neither from the flames nor the impact of one tree on another. He throws fireball after fireball at the enemy, and then he hears Dwalin shout from below.

Kili looks up in time to see Thorin knocked aside like a feather, and then Fili grabs his shoulder and drags him from the tree. Bilbo reaches Thorin first, however, so Fili and Kili change course and throw themselves upon other Orcs, followed by every Dwarf who could escape from the trees. Kili cuts down one, sends another into the waiting sword of his brother, and then there is a talon wrapped around his waist and he is lifted and dropped onto the back of an eagle.

He has only seen eagles from a distance, when escorting merchants back and forth from the Ettenmoors and further east, never up close, and certainly he has never ridden one. The novelty of it, the excitement, is burned away the moment he hears Fili cry, “Thorin!” and he sees an eagle swoop by, Thorin clutched in its foot.

The eagles carry them far, far enough that Kili’s battle-energy wears off and Fili stops shaking. Kili can see Bifur on another eagle, waving his arms up and down like wings, and Dori on another, both fists tightly clenched in Ori’s cloak.

“I’ve lost sight of him,” Fili says suddenly, and then their eagle turns around a mountain peak and they see a high cliff, edge shaped like a bear, where the eagles are landing. The two of them slide off their eagle’s wing and hurry to join the crowd gathered around Thorin. Gandalf is kneeling over him, whispering some chant in a language Kili does not recognize, and then Thorin opens his eyes.

Kili grabs Thorin’s arm as he rises, clutching a little too tightly, and Thorin shakes him off, turning on Bilbo. “You!” Thorin hisses, and Kili feels his heart fall as he steps back next to Fili, seeing the feeling reflected on his brother’s face.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life,” Thorin finishes, wrapping Bilbo into a bear hug, and Kili sees Fili’s face lift into a smile.

HIs own heart remains low, however, and as the rest of the Company looks out towards the horizon, towards Erebor, his brother leans close and murmurs, “I know. That’s more affection for the Halfling than he’s shown us our whole lives combined. But brooding about that is my job, not yours.”

“You’re not doing it,” Kili retorts. “I have to pick up the slack.”

Fili grins at him and puts an arm around his shoulders, following Gandalf down the peak to find a place to rest. “Forgive me, I’ll get back to it presently. Sorrow doesn’t suit you, brother.”

It is what their father always said to Kili in his rare moments of low spirits, and the memory is enough to make Kili smile in return and push his feelings of disappointment away from the front of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Fili begins to think that they have escaped their pursuers, the next day dawns with the roar of Wargs, and the day is lost to a frantic flight, through any and every body of water they find to hide their scent, and doubling back and climbing trees to confuse the trail. Bombur eventually gives up, hiding in bushes and shrubs rather than hauling himself on and off of branches, but everyone else climbs according to Thorin’s orders.

If Fili never spends another night in a tree, he will die at the end of his life a happy Dwarf, whatever else may happen. Dwarves were not made to sleep so high up; they were barely made to sleep above-ground, and his dreams are filled with gaping abysses and endless falls into blackness.

Kili is faring no better, Fili can tell - his brother’s eyes are becoming hollower and his grins are becoming less wide. The changes are not severe enough that anyone else has noticed, but not even Balin knows Kili’s face as well as Fili does, and visions of Kili’s frown begin dotting the walls of the pits he falls down in his dreams.

Every time Fili begins to think that they have escaped their pursuers, the next day dawns with the roar of Wargs, and the day is lost to a frantic flight, through any and every body of water they find to hide their scent, and doubling back and climbing trees to confuse the trail. Bombur eventually gives up, hiding in bushes and shrubs rather than hauling himself on and off of branches, but everyone else climbs according to Thorin’s orders.

There is one day when Kili slips and nearly falls directly on top of one of the Orc scouts trailing them, and is saved only by Dwalin sticking a foot out and nearly kicking him back onto the branch. Fili steadies him and swears in a low voice that they will not climb another tree, but hide with Bombur or volunteer for false-trail duty. He does not get a chance to bring it up for several days, however, and before he can Bilbo brings word of a massive bear and Gandalf sends them all fleeing into the beast’s house.

“It’s better than a tree, at least,” Kili offers quietly as Bombur passes around hunks of bread and cheese. The cabin is filled with food, but none of them dare touch it, although Fili notices Gandalf siphon off a bit of the bear’s wine into his mug.

“True enough,” Fili agrees, tearing off a hunk of bread. “Looks more comfortable than a branch, by far.” The floor is covered with hay everywhere but the room with the table, and as soon as they finish eating most of the Dwarves pick a spot in the back and sleep like the dead. Fili is conscious long enough to see Thorin, Balin, and Gandalf huddle together at the end of the massive table, and then he slips into sleep as well, his dreams free of pits or falls for the first time in weeks.

He wakes several hours later, the light of dawn beginning to creep in the windows, to the largest Man he has ever seen setting the table. He towers over Gandalf, standing next to him and doling out silverware to each place. Kili blinks awake next to him and sits up, trying not to stare. Thorin is also awake, sitting on a barrel near a window and scrutinizing the map in the low light; the other Dwarves are still asleep.

“Ah, Fili, Kili,” Gandalf says, noticing them after a long moment. They haul themselves to their feet and approach the table. “This is Beorn, our host. He has graciously allowed us to stay for breakfast this morning before we are on our way.” The look on Gandalf’s face says that this concession took a long time, and many words.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Kili offers, and Fili nods. Beorn nods back and puts the last plate on the table, which is large enough to fit nearly the whole Company. Some will have to stand, but the majority will be able to squeeze onto the benches.

Beorn himself makes no move to sit down, but exits through a door in the kitchen and returns with a large jug of milk. “Sit,” he says roughly, gesturing to the table. Fili and Kili clamber onto a bench at the end of the table. Thorin folds up his map and sits as well, sliding into the chair next to Fili.

Breakfast is served in near-silence by Beorn and Gandalf, and the Dwarves wake up quickly at the smell of food. Nearly everyone is awake by the time Fili, Kili, and Thorin finish, Thorin getting up as soon as he is done to clear the seat for someone else. Once all the Company save Bilbo is seated or standing around the table, Gandalf begins to talk, telling Beorn everything about their quest. Fili can see discomfort on Thorin’s face at the wizard’s openness, but he says nothing.

Bilbo slips quietly into the group as Beorn refills Fili’s mug. Fili has never cared much for milk, but Beorn is too large and solemn for him to request something else. He winces into the mug as Bilbo grills Beorn in his usual tactless way, but the big Man does not seem offended, and as the conversation ends in an offer of provisions and ponies as far as the forest, the Halfling’s blunt questioning seems to work in their favor.

The Company is packed and on the road within an hour of breakfast ending. Kili’s face is fuller than it had been yesterday, warming Fili more than having a roof over his head ever could have. After an hour’s ride, Kili points out the dark shape half a mile away, traveling fast enough to keep pace with their ponies. “Keeping an eye on his property,” Fili muses.

“No,” Kili says, shaking his head. “Well, partly. But I think he rather liked Bilbo.”

“I think you’re right,” Fili says. After a moment, he adds, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll miss his floor.”

“These are dark times we live in,” Kili says solemnly. Fili catches his eye and holds his gaze for a long second before they both break into grins. “I overheard Gandalf saying something to Thorin about the dangers of Mirkwood,” Kili goes on. “I think the gist of it was that we can’t trust the trees to keep us safe anymore. It’s not exactly comforting, but at least we won’t have to sleep in them anymore.”

“I’d take dangerous ground over a friendly branch as a bed, any day,” Fili says. He has never meant anything more in his entire life, and yet when they finally reach the boundaries of the forest, his stomach knots and he almost begins to pine for the poky limbs of other trees. When Gandalf announces that he is leaving them, Fili can see his despair echoed on the faces of the rest of the Company, but Gandalf rides off nonetheless and Thorin orders the ponies released. One by one, the Company files through the gate of Mirkwood, and it is only Kili’s presence behind him and Thorin’s at the head of the line that keep Fili’s feet moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are the winds beneath my wings.


	7. Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watches this band, and is struck by how different they seem from the few stragglers that she has seen in the past century. A large group, they put up a solid effort against the spiders, and they fight together as though they have been through many battles as a set. Finally, the spiders begin to get the better of the Dwarves, and Tauriel gives the order to go in.

Tauriel has not seen so many Dwarves lost in the Woodland Realm since the days before the fall of Dale and the Kingdom Under the Mountain. Dwarvish trading groups used to pass through the Greatwood in those days, and become lost in its trees, until she, Legolas, or occasionally Thranduil took pity on them and led them to safety. Since the coming of Smaug, groups traveling to the Iron Hills have been much smaller, and most circumvent the Wood entirely, choosing instead to go north around it.

She watches this band, however, and is struck by how different they seem from the few stragglers that she has seen in the past century. A large group, they put up a solid effort against the spiders, and they fight together as though they have been through many battles as a set. Finally, the spiders begin to get the better of the Dwarves, and Tauriel gives the order to go in.

Legolas is first down into the fray, and Tauriel wonders, as she always does, that he held himself back for so long. Despite her prince’s special hatred for the spiders that enter into their realm, he always obeys her commands when he travels with her Guard outside the palace walls, as though he were one of her officers, instead of the other way around.

The last Dwarf in battle with a spider, the one called Kili, catches her eye; he keeps his head remarkably well for one who has come so close to death, and though she does not give him her dagger, the fact that he maintains the presence of mind to ask for it earns him a bit of her respect. Many of her own Guards were sick after their first fight with such a spider.

Legolas falls into step with her as they march the prisoners towards the palace. “This was the closest I have ever seen the creatures come to the palace,” he notes softly, not for the ears of the nearest Guard.

“Let us pray they followed the Dwarves this time, and will not come so near again,” Tauriel replies. The presence of the spiders a mere handful of miles from her home troubles her as well, but she cannot do anything about it as she walks, so she pushes it from her mind.

The Dwarves put up a fight when they are escorted into holding cells; one of the Dwarves in particular is carrying more blades than Tauriel has ever seen on one person. She unlocks a cell for Kili, and he looks up at her and says, “Aren’t you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers.”

The crudeness makes her want to smile, and the shame on his face as soon as he finishes speaking makes her want to laugh. She suppresses both urges and pushes him into the cell, locking it behind him.

“Why does the Dwarf stare at you?” Legolas asks her as she turns to leave. She snaps at him, barely registering what she says, a privilege born of many years of friendship. In another moment she distracts herself by sorting and securing the Dwarven weapons, all keys going directly to the Keeper’s hands.

The halls of the palace are shaped to allow royal commands to travel far with little force everywhere but the cells, and Tauriel is sure that every Elf in the realm hears the quarrel between Thranduil and the Dwarf Thorin. One of her lieutenants catches her eye. “Are we to house Dwarves for a hundred years?” she whispers.

“We will do as our king commands,” Tauriel replies, and, after a moment’s hesitation, adds, “We must pray that our king commands otherwise.” She smiles at the lieutenant, who bites down on her own smile and continues towards the main Gate to relieve the watch.

Legolas finds her in the armory, replenishing the arrows in her quiver. “My father wishes to speak to you,” he says, no hint of their earlier quarrel in his demeanor. She puts the quiver next to her bow, sheaths her newly-sharpened sword, and joins him at the door. “He is displeased with the location of the spider attack,” he adds, walking with her towards the throne room.

“As am I,” Tauriel mutters. She can already guess how the argument will fall out, the same way it has fallen out so many times in recent years. One day, she knows, her king will tire of it, and either concede or remove her from her post, but until then they are doomed to talk in circles around the issue and change nothing.

Legolas stays with her until they are but two turns away from the throne room, where with a whispered “Good luck” he ducks away. Tauriel can see her king pacing around the pool, and takes a moment to square her shoulders and prepare herself.

“I know you’re there,” Thranduil drawls after a moment, and she approaches.

The argument about the spiders goes just as she had predicted, and she ends it earlier than she otherwise might have; there is too much on her mind to commit to it fully. She waits, head bowed, for a dismissal.

“Legolas said you fought well today,” her king says instead, and Tauriel finds herself lost for words for the first time in a long while.

“I assure you, my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a Captain of the Guard,” Tauriel lies. Legolas has thought of her in friendship for many centuries. For some of those years, he thought of her perhaps as something more, but such times have passed. Tauriel is more grateful for his friendship than she can possibly express, but explaining such to her king is impossible, and so instead she says, “I did not think you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly Silvan Elf.”

“No, you’re right, I would not.” Although they have never spoken of it, Tauriel knows that such a consideration is the only thing that kept Legolas silent during his years of infatuation. She is grateful for that, but to hear it so flatly confirmed by her king sinks her spirits lower than they have already fallen. The dismissal comes soon after, and she flees.

The Mereth-en-Gilith celebrations have begun by the time she leaves Thranduil, but Tauriel paces the lower levels of the palace instead of joining them, unwilling to inflict her mood on others. As she moves among the cells she sees Kili tossing something small from hand to hand, and finally she halts in front of his cell and asks what it is.

His first answer is a curse, and she frowns and begins to walk away. He calls her back before she moves very far, and the smile on his face makes her stay. His conversation is remarkably poetic, more so than she would expect from a Dwarf, and although Tauriel slowly becomes aware of Legolas, staring at them from a few levels up, she sits and lets Kili describe a fire-moon to her.

“You should probably get back to your party,” Kili says finally, after a period of warm silence. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.”

“It is not mandatory,” Tauriel says, standing. “But you are right, I should be there.” An impulse to thank him strikes her then; her heart has lifted again with his enthusiasm. She does not give in, nor return his parting smile, but turns on her heel and walks away.

Legolas falls into step beside her a few levels above where he had been standing. “Be careful,” he says in a low voice.

Were she speaking to anyone else, Tauriel would deny knowledge of what he means, but she has known Legolas for almost her entire life, and his eyes are kind. “I will,” she promises, and they step out into the open air of the large balcony where the festival is being held. Thranduil, presiding over the crowd, sees them come in. Tauriel looks away before his expression can register with her, and she and Legolas part, him to his father’s side and her to the other Guard-Captains in the far corner.

When the word comes that the Dwarves are no longer in their cells, Tauriel finds that she has to put forth an effort to appear angry, instead of relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is incredibly late. I am sorry! My excuse is that I have been sick for the past week, unable to do anything but cough and feel bad for myself. I'm planning to be back on the regular posting schedule next week, though!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading, and as usual, comments and kudos fill me with joy.


	8. Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili can’t even see his brother but he knows what Kili sounds like when he’s in pain, and he knows that the gate isn’t open.

_Kili’s been hit._

Fili can’t even see his brother but he knows what Kili sounds like when he’s in pain, and he knows that the gate isn’t open. He spins around in his barrel and makes one paddle towards shore before Bofur slaps a hand on the lip, holding him back. “You’re no use to him injured. Give him a safe place to land,” Bofur yells over the roar of water and Orcs.

Fili manages to snag Kili’s empty barrel and tows it along with him out from under the bridge. A handful of heart-stopping moments pass, and then the gate opens and the barrels begin to move again. Fili fights the rush of water with one arm, looks up, and sees his brother fall again. “Kili!” he shouts up, and because he and his brother share one mind in battle, Kili rolls off the side and into the empty barrel, snapping the arrow out of his leg as he lands. Bofur, still with a hand on Fili’s arm, puts one on Kili’s as well and the three of them fall over the edge of the water.

The battle follows them into the water. Bofur lets go of them quickly and joins in the fray, but Fili keeps a hand on Kili’s barrel as much as he can in the fast current of the river. Every now and again an Orc comes close enough that Fili can steal a sword and hack at it, but he passes every weapon that comes into his hands on to other Dwarves. Fighting would take him too far away from Kili, who has a white-knuckled grip on the lip of his barrel.

The Elves, thankfully, seem more concentrated on the Orcs than the Dwarves, and the blonde Elf’s dance across the river does not come near enough to Fili’s or Kili’s heads that Fili would be forced to break his ankle. Fili watches as Thorin saves the Elf’s life, and then the battle seems to be behind them.

Finally, when the wood of Kili’s barrel is starting to splinter from his grip, the shore comes into view. Kili immediately starts swimming for land, and Fili follows. Behind him, he hears Thorin bark, “Make for shore!”

The river is fresh, not salt, and Fili runs to the edge, rips two strips of dry cloth from his undertunic, and wets one of them. He runs back to Kili and begins dabbing at his leg with the wet cloth. The wound is not the worst he has ever seen, but the arrowhead pulled it wider when it snapped back out and the skin around it is already red and angry.

“You have two minutes,” Thorin says, looking anywhere but at the two of them, and Fili has never hated him more.

Finally Fili is satisfied that the wound is as clean as he can possibly get it, and he wraps the other cloth around Kili’s leg for a temporary bandage. He has just tucked the corners under the edge when a grim-faced Man shoots at Ori.

Fili does not understand why negotiation has to happen by Bard’s boat; Kili is pale and tense, and Fili would be much happier if his brother were lying down, or at least sitting. As it is he keeps a hand on Kili’s shoulder, both to keep Kili upright and to calm the impulse that is telling Fili to turn around and make for home, that the adventure is not worth it anymore.

There are two small benches on the boat. Balin gets one, to count out the gold to pay Bard, and Fili gets Kili into the other one before anyone else can sit. “I’m fine, really,” Kili insists, but he accepts the seat without further complaint.

Enough of his color is back by the time they sight the town that he manages to get back in a barrel, hand clenched around Fili’s until he is completely settled. Fili clambers into his own, willing himself to calm down and keep control of his emotions. Kili has been hurt before, and worse than this, although never so far from home, and never when he did not have the chance to rest and heal afterwards. As the fish rain down on Fili’s head, he closes his eyes and prays for the first time in decades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos make my day every time.


	9. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili looks offended, for which Thorin is grateful. “I can manage,” he replies, moving away from Thorin’s gaze. “Let’s just get out of here, alright?” Thorin has a single moment of satisfaction, thinks for a second that Kili is fine, and then Kili falls, weapons and his own weight clattering down the stairs and raising a better alarm than the Lake-Town guardsmen could ever dream of implementing.

Thorin finds he cannot look at Kili without panicking, and so he turns his focus away and ignores it, ignores him.

_Dis will kill me for this,_ he thinks to himself, wrapped in oversized clothes in Bard’s house. _She will never forgive me for letting him get wounded._ He knows, of course, that this is not why his stomach lurches whenever he looks at Kili, tense with pain, but it is true and therefore he is not lying to himself.

Thorin manages to avoid him until they raid the armory. Kili has somehow been appointed a weapons mule, despite his injury. Thorin can hear him grunt with every blade dumped into his arms, and cannot avoid Kili’s eye as he turns to add to the pile. “Are you alright?”

Kili looks offended, for which Thorin is grateful. “I can manage,” he replies, moving away from Thorin’s gaze. “Let’s just get out of here, alright?” Thorin has a single moment of satisfaction, thinks for a second that Kili is fine, and then Kili falls, weapons and his own weight clattering down the stairs and raising a better alarm than the Lake-Town guardsmen could ever dream of implementing.

Thorin looks down, sees Kili’s resigned, heartbroken expression, and knows he owes Dis an apology for ever doubting that she recognized love when it happened to her. The clench in his stomach, so clearly distinct from fear or dread or anger, can be nothing else.

The Master of Lake-Town is a ridiculous man, and Thorin can see through him as if he were made of glass. If the rumors are true, and the hearts of Dwarves are made out of gold and jewels, then the Master is the tallest, heaviest Dwarf Thorin has ever met. Bard presents an obstacle, but only for the briefest moment, and then the town is in Thorin’s hands.

By the time the Company is dressed in the ridiculous finery of Lake-Town and a boat is brought to dock for them, Thorin knows what he has to do. If he had thought of it earlier Kili could have been spared the embarrassment, but he did not, and he collars Kili on the way to the boat and tells him he would only slow them down.

It’s the harshest thing Thorin has ever said to him, and he can tell Kili does not believe him at first. And then he does, and, pale-faced and sweating from pain, Kili starts arguing, every idealistic thing Thorin has said during the quest coming back out of his mouth. Thorin can’t help smiling at him, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Rest. Join us when you’re healed.” _Join us when I can look at you again, I can’t look at you when you’re suffering and I cannot be distracted this close to the end,_ he does not say.

Kili deflates and Oin hefts himself out of the boat. That is a blow, but Kili needs a healer’s help and Thorin cannot hold him back for future wounds against such a large present one. A bigger blow comes when Fili steps back onto the dock. “Fili, don’t be a fool,” Thorin spits. “You belong with the Company.”

“I belong with my brother,” Fili snaps, and turns his back. Thorin hesitates for the briefest moment and then calls for cast-off. Bofur still has not arrived, but they will travel that much faster for his absence. There is no time to lose. As the boat pushes off he hears a commotion from behind him, and Fili call out his brother’s name. He does not look back.

Balin looks back, however, and then looks at Thorin the whole ride across the Lake. Thorin can feel his old friend’s eyes on the back of his head as he looks out towards the Mountain, but Balin says nothing. Indeed, no one speaks until they disembark on the far shore and start the long hike to the Mountain.

The trip from Lake-Town is a long one, and the sun is well past its highest point by the time the reduced Company makes it to the Mountain’s base. Thorin looks up at the tall Kingdom of his youth, and feels none of the excitement and finality he had expected to feel, but a sense of foreboding and a hollow resignation.

The Company splits to search the Mountainside for the secret door, and they do not find it until a mere hour before dusk. The Company scales the rock quickly, however, and there is still plenty of time and light left to find the keyhole, Thorin thinks. Durin’s Day has not yet passed when they are lined up in front of the wall, and the keyhole can still be found. But they do not find it. The sun dips below the horizon and the hollowness inside Thorin grows with each step he takes back down the Mountainside.

Bilbo’s shout comes as if from a dream, but then the empty place in Thorin’s heart shrinks and he runs back up the rock, catches the key, and then the door is opened and he is back in his homeland, after far too long away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short one this time, but it's got a fair bit going on for all that. Hope you enjoyed it! Little-known fact: Comments and kudos can replace oxygen for a short time.


	10. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It will be easier on Fili if Kili dies quickly and easily, and it is what he always meant to do, but now at the moment of death he cannot make himself obey.

Kili knows he is going to die. The certainty grows with every second, every throb of pain, every wrack his body gives as it tries to save his life. _It should stop_ , he thinks, powerless to make his body listen. It will fail, and his dying is more painful for the effort. It will be easier on Fili if Kili dies quickly and easily, and it is what he always meant to do, but now at the moment of death he cannot make himself obey.

Then something wet and cold is pressing into his wound and the pain is like nothing he has ever felt before and he screams and it is done and he is dead. Mahal the Maker is standing over his bedside, glowing white and chanting to bring his soul to where his father waits. Kili cannot quite understand why Mahal has appeared to him in Tauriel’s form but he appreciates the gesture; the sight of her calms his blood and relaxes his cramping muscles.

A few heartbeats pass, and Kili realizes he still has a heartbeat. His muscles still ache and there is still a dull throb in his thigh where Mahal is binding his wound afresh. No, if he is not dead, then it is not Mahal whom he sees. It is Tauriel.

She looks at him and he realizes that he is speaking aloud. But that doesn’t matter, because it is not really her, either; he is dreaming, and Tauriel is far away where she belongs, far away from his blood and pain and sweat, drinking in the light and memory of the stars. There is no future where he ever gets to see her again. He wonders aloud whether she regrets that as much as he does. The dream looks at him, eyes unreadable, and he wonders whether that was, in fact, what he said. Kili reaches for her hand and cannot feel her. She is not real, then, and that is for the best. He lets his eyes fall closed and drifts into sleep.

He wakes with a start when light streams in through the window. Every part of his body protests against sitting up, but it is regular pain, not poison-pain, and he works through it. Fili rushes to his side. “Are you alright?”

Kili looks at his brother’s face and decides against trying to lie. “Not particularly, but I’ve been worse. It’s all normal pain now. I’ll live.” He looks around; Bard’s house is in shambles, but there is no one else to be seen. “What happened?”

“Tauriel saved your life.” Fili fills a mug with water and passes it to Kili, who empties it almost before the thirst hits him properly. “Orcs found us here and then she just appeared out of nowhere, do you remember?”

“Vaguely,” Kili says, lowering the mug. “I think I killed one.”

“You did, yes. Bofur brought back the kingsfoil just in time, and she saved your life with it. Elvish medicine. I think Oin fell in love for a moment.”

The phrase brings back the rest of Kili’s memories and he flushes. Fili is filling a bowl out of a large pot on the counter and doesn’t notice. He brings it back to Kili, filled with an unfamiliar porridge that is nonetheless delicious, and Kili wolfs it down. “Where is everyone?” he asks between bites.

Fili goes grave. “The dragons’ been sighted.” Kili looks at him and lowers the bowl. “Keep eating, you need it and we have time. It’s actually been more felt than sighted, we should have a few more hours before it arrives.”

“Has there been news from the Mountain?” The oatmeal no longer tastes good, but Fili wants him to finish it, so Kili keeps eating until the bowl is empty.

“None yet, but we have to assume they made it in. Something had to wake the Beast up.” Fili takes the bowl from Kili and puts it back on the counter. “The children and Oin went for weapons. Tauriel and Bofur went to find Bard, he’s been missing all night. I stayed behind in case you woke up. I don’t suppose there’s any point in reminding you that you nearly died yesterday?” he adds, as Kili stands up and limps towards the window.

“None at all,” Kili says, looking out. “Did you tell them to find a bow for me, or were you assuming I wouldn’t fight?”

“I told them, yes.” Fili joins him at the window. “I have met you before, you know.” Kili looks at him properly for the first time since waking up. Fili manages a small smile. “Never do that to me again, brother,” he says, and Kili can hear the tremor in his voice. “Last night was the worst of my life.”

Kili bumps his forehead lightly against his brother’s. “I promise.” He leans back and looks out the window again. The town seems quiet, but not a peaceful quiet. “What of the Orcs that were following us? Are there any left?”

“They’re gathering at the far end of the Lake. Tauriel thinks they plan to strike at the same time as the dragon, and pick us off in the mayhem.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Kili says, and Fili lets out a breath that might have been a laugh in another situation. “Are my clothes and armor anywhere nearby?”

Fili points to a small heap in the corner. “Over there, but don’t put it on yet. Oin wants to change your bandage again when he gets back, before the battle starts.”

Kili nods, and then the door swings open. Oin and Bard’s three children stagger in, each carrying an armload of iron weapons. The boy carries a long black arrow as well. “Where did you get that?” Fili asks him, running over to take the littlest girl’s load.

“Da gave it to me,” the boy says, dumping his armful on the table and separating out a bow and loaded quiver. “He told me to put it somewhere safe, but I figure we ought to have it here for him when he gets back.”

Kili stumps over to the table and picks up the bow. It’s Dwarf-sized, or near enough, and the arrows are straight. It isn’t the gear Bofur made him, but it will do. “Is there a plan yet?”

“The town’s quiet enough but there are plans being laid,” Oin says. “The townsmen are splitting into two parts, one to fight the dragonfire and its damage, and the other to meet the Orcs at the Lake edge when they arrive. The women are making a shelter in the center of town for the children who can’t fight yet.”

“We should be at the Lake edge,” Kili says to Fili. “The Orcs are here looking for Dwarves. We might be able to distract them long enough for the Men to attack, if nothing else.” His brother nods.

The eldest girl picks up a sword. “These are dull. Tilda, run and get the sharpeners, will you?” The younger girl runs off, returning with a few knife sharpeners and a handful of stones that look like they have been used for the same purpose.

The three children and Fili set about sharpening every blade they had managed to get their hands on. Oin herds Kili back to the bed and unwraps his leg. The wound is cleaner than it has been since the arrow first ripped out, and there is barely any swelling at all. “Elvish medicine,” Oin says by way of explanation. “I’ve no idea how it works, but work it does.” He wraps a fresh bandage around the wound. After a few moment’s shuffling through his meager supplies, Oin manages to concoct a disgusting-looking mixture that numbs what pain remains after Kili chokes it down.

The last blade has barely been sharpened when Bofur bursts through the door. “The Orcs have started crossing the Lake!”

Kili has the quiver over his shoulder and bow in his hand before the door falls shut again. “Where are the others?”

“Bard and Tauriel have gone down Lakeside.” Bofur grabs the nearest sword and swings it, testing the weight. “The shelter is full, they’re packing people into the prison now.”

“It’s the strongest building,” Bard’s son says. “It won’t stand against dragonfire, but it should keep the Orcs out for a while, at least.”

Kili turns to the girls. “You two should head to the prison and keep safe there. Fili are I are going down to the Lake edge,” he adds, looking at Bofur. “The Orcs are looking for Dwarves, and if we can keep them from the town proper, all the better.”

“I can fight,” Sigrid says, picking up a hammer. “Da taught me just the same as Bain.”

“Then fight,” Fili says. “We need every sure hand we can get. But your sister needs to get to safety.” The girl, Tilda, makes no protest, huddled as she is behind her sister.

“I’ll take her,” Oin says, stepping forward. “Bofur and I can get the little one to safety, then double around and try to lead the Orcs in the opposite direction from you. Split the forces and the Men can get in the middle.”

“I’m coming with the two of you,” Bain says to Kili.

“No, you’re not.” Before the boy can protest, Kili nods to the black arrow. “Someone needs to get that to the crossbow before the dragon gets here. Sigrid, when you get down to the fighting, send Bard to the bow; I can’t think of anyone else who could make that shot. Fili and I will have to split off and get to cover before the fighting starts.” The two children nod, faces grave. “Am I forgetting anything?” Kili asks to the room at large. Fili shakes his head, and no one else moves. There is a single, tense moment of silence.

“Right, then!” Bofur says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road.”


	11. Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She reaches Fili in a matter of moments as is scaling the wall a heartbeat later. Kili reaches out a hand to help her up and, though she does not need it, she takes it. “What are you doing up here?” His voice is strong and amused, a world away from the weak, rough voice that called her a dream the night before.

The girl Sigrid has barely said enough to explain the Dwarves’ plan before Tauriel is scanning the rooftops. Kili is an archer, and injured; he will get as high as possible to pick off Orcs from a distance, with his brother likely on the ground nearby. She sees a glimpse of the brother’s yellow hair by a wall, and then a moment later Kili is atop the flat roof of the building. Tauriel runs.

She reaches Fili in a matter of moments as is scaling the wall a heartbeat later. Kili reaches out a hand to help her up and, though she does not need it, she takes it. “What are you doing up here?” His voice is strong and amused, a world away from the weak, rough voice that called her a dream the night before.

“It was no small effort, bringing you back to health,” Tauriel responds. “I wish to see my investment through to the end.” His smile is blinding, small and shy as it is, and any doubts she still harbors about deserting her prince to save his life are dissolved. “Will your uncle come?”

His face falls and she regrets the question. “No. Thorin will not risk his kingdom for the sake of a single town, no matter who is inside it. We are on our own.”

“Are the bonds of family so worthless among Dwarves?” Tauriel cannot imagine leaving the lowest Guard to die in fire when she could save him, let alone one bound to her by blood.

“When they are only blood, yes.” Kili’s voice is hard now. “There is no family affection between us, no history beyond the bounds of this Quest. He will not think as our kin, but as a king and leader. Four Dwarves can be sacrificed for the good of the many.”

Tauriel studies Kili for a moment. His face is blank, studiously so, and it speaks volumes. “You do not believe that. Not for a moment.”

“No. But he does.” Kili hesitates for a moment, then opens his mouth, but before he can make a sound he is cut off by a great cry from the shore. “The Orcs have arrived,” he says instead.

Tauriel fells two Orcs before Kili has fired his first shot, but his aim is true, truer than that of any Dwarf she has seen before. The Orcs notice them almost immediately and a small band peels off, headed by a stout Orc with scars running all over his face and body. Down below, Fili meets them head-on and puts his sword through the leader’s neck while arrows rain down on the rest.

“There are the others,” Kili says, pointing. Tauriel can see the other two Dwarves coming in opposite and cutting down a large swath of Orcs before falling back and leading them away. “Has Bard reached the -”

He is cut off mid-sentence by a shadow casting itself over their roof. A gust of fire follows, passing mere yards over their heads and setting a patch of the inner town alight. The dragon roars and sweeps over the flames, his long tail knocking buildings to rubble.

Tauriel recovers herself and looks to the tall tower at the far edge of the town. “Bard is climbing now,” she tells Kili. “He will soon be at the bow.”

The battle at the Lakeside has erupted into chaos. Tauriel watches as those men with swords stand guard around those with arrows, cutting down Orcs as their comrades fire uselessly at the dragon. The beast is large enough that many hit, but all bounce uselessly off and fall back to the ground. They waste their arrows, Tauriel thinks, her own striking an Orc full in the back. Fili is surrounded now, his blade swinging and catching in the firelight as the dragon breathes out another burst of flame.

Kili takes aim at an Orc at Fili’s back and fires. “Has Bard reached the bow yet?”

Tauriel glances at the tower. “He is in place, his son by his side.”

“We need to give him the shot. Lure the dragon over to him.” Kili shoots another Orc down and looks at the rooftops around them. “We need to get the dragon’s attention.”

“Easily done.” Tauriel nocks an arrow and waits. The dragon turns again, opens his mouth to send fire towards their rooftop, and Tauriel puts the arrow between his eyes. A moment later, Kili’s arrow strikes as well, just below hers.

The arrows do no damage, but the great beast roars in anger. Flames erupt around them. “Come on!” Kili yells over the noise, and takes a running leap through the flames to the roof next to them, faltering only slightly on the landing. Tauriel launches herself and lands beside him. “We need to split up,” Kili says, rubbing his leg. “The Orcs will follow us, so stay clear of the shelters. Stay to the edge of town as much as possible.”

Tauriel nods. “There is a line of flat-roofed buildings heading to the west side of the tower,” she says. “They may make your landings easier. I will go east. If the beast follows us, it should put his belly as close to Bard as possible.”

Kili nods, then catches her eye. “Be safe, Tauriel.”

“And you.” Tauriel jumps to the next roof, and the next. Orcs have slipped through the line of defense and she picks them off as she goes. Every few buildings she spares a glance for Kili, who is keeping pace admirably for a wounded Dwarf racing an Elf.

The dragon is following them. Fire licks the buildings between her and Kili and she loses sight of him. She looks up to see Bard bringing the bow around; he has realized their plan. The boy is gone, but a moment later she sees him running towards the shelter. Of course. Bard’s arrow fells the dragon, it will fall on the center of the town, where the rest of the townspeople are hiding.

There is no time to waste on such concerns. The dragon is within range but Bard has not yet fired. Whether he cannot make a clear shot or he is waiting for the boy to clear the town center, Tauriel does not know and cannot care. She keeps running.

She has gone five roofs past the tower when a loud _twang_ hits her ears from behind. She spins around to find that Bard has shot true; a long, ugly black arrow is embedded deep in the dragon, and it screams as it falls from the sky.

The dragon hits the ground hard, writhing and belching fire in long, hot streams that taper off slowly as the creature dies. Nearly the entire town is in flames before it finally stops twitching. Tauriel’s blood slows as she stands, and she can hear the screams of the townspeople.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beside Fili, his brother stirs. Fili had found him there after the battle, sitting still as stone and staring at the inferno. Now he finally tears his eyes from the flames and says, “He will do nothing for them.”

Hours after the death of the dragon, Fili sits with his brother on the far shore of the lake and watches the flames lick around what remains of Lake-Town. The water is full of people: dead bodies; those still swimming for shore from the wreckage; and those on their way out to help the survivors.

Beside Fili, his brother stirs. Fili had found him there after the battle, sitting still as stone and staring at the inferno. Now he finally tears his eyes from the flames and says, “He will do nothing for them.”

It is not a question, and Fili does not reply. They both know what answer he would give; the surviving population of Lake-Town will receive no aid from the King Under the Mountain.

“I don’t want to go,” Kili says. Fili looks at him, taken aback. “We owe these people our lives,” Kili goes on. “It wouldn’t be right to abandon them, to go back to Thorin and leave them without help in return.”

A grim voice from behind them says, “You may not have a choice.” Bard is covered in ash and dust and blood, and the brothers stand. “There is already talk of keeping the four of you as hostages, to force Thorin into sending us what he promised.”

“If I thought that would work, I would gladly stay,” Fili says. “But he will not respond to threats.”

“I thought as much.” Bard seems even darker than usual; no one has seen Sigrid since the dragon fell. “You must go quickly then. I cannot offer you horses, food, or clothes, but I can offer you safe passage if you leave soon. Your companions are with the wounded.” He points to a hastily-erected tent on the shore.

“Thank you,” Kili says, and clasps Bard’s forearm. Fili does the same. Kili hesitates, and then says, “Where is Tauriel?”

“She has gone back to Mirkwood, to petition her king on our behalf,” Bard replies. “The people of Lake-Town have always been friendly with the Woodland Realm.”

Kili drops his eyes and nods. Fili fills the silence, saying, “Thank you, again,” to Bard, and then begins walking towards the tent. Kili follows a moment later. “I’m sorry,” Fili murmurs to him. Kili doesn’t answer, but offers him a tired smile.

Oin insists on taking a look at Kili’s leg before they leave. “I didn’t stitch you up before, since you’d just have popped them in the battle, but you do need them now, before we do any more hiking,” he insists, pushing the younger Dwarf into a seat.

Fili finds he cannot watch, and excuses himself. Bofur joins him outside the tent. “Isn’t it odd,” Fili muses, “that I could look at his wound while he was dying, but now that he is healing I can’t stand it?”

“Adrenaline rush,” Bofur answers. “You needed to look at it when you were trying to save his life. Now it just reminds you how close he came. It’s not an uncommon state of affairs.” Bofur sighs. “It doesn’t seem right, just leaving these people and headin’ on to Erebor.”

“That’s what Kili said. But there’s nothing for us to do here, and maybe we can convince Thorin to help when we get there.”

Bofur snorts. “Yeah, that’ll happen.” Fili can’t help but agree. Oin and Kili step out of the tent then, Kili wincing slightly with each step.

“You alright?” Fili asks, moving forward to put a hand under his elbow.

“Fine. Oin’s painkiller potion tastes foul and takes a few moments to kick in, is all.” Kili shades his eyes and looks towards the Mountain. “Long walk.”

“Best get started,” Oin says. “If you rip your stitches on this walk, laddie, I’ll use a blunt needle next time, so take it easy. Don’t worry about slowing us down.”

“I will,” Kili promises, and then the four of them set off for Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry about the short chapters lately, they'll start getting longer soon.


	13. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If one more person says anything to Thorin about Lake-Town, he’s going to take his ring off and shove it down their throat.

If one more person says anything to Thorin about Lake-Town, he’s going to take his ring off and shove it down their throat.

He doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud, or that Balin is behind him, until his old friend huffs a laugh and says, “Don’t worry, laddie. I won’t.”

Thorin turns around. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Just a moment.” Balin steps up next to Thorin and looks out over the great lake of treasure below them. “It’s going to be a hard job, splitting this up fourteen ways.”

“Yes it will,” Thorin muses. He’s scanned the hoard a hundred times and seen no glint of the Arkenstone. He looks again, and then says to Balin, “If you’re not here to hassle me about Lake-Town, what are you here for?”

“To hassle you about the others,” Balin says. Thorin frowns. “It’s been over a day since the great beast fell and there’s been no sign or word of the Dwarves who stayed behind. I know you’re unwilling to send aid, but should we not at least send someone to look for them?”

“And risk another Dwarf being captured?” Thorin asks. “It’s not worth that risk, not yet.”

“Captured?” Balin asks, turning towards him. “You think they’re being held hostage?”

“Four Dwarves were still in Lake-Town when the dragon attacked, including two members of the royal family,” Thorin says. “It’s what I would do, in their position. Ransom them back in exchange for gold to rebuild.”

“You did promise them all the gold they could want, laddie,” Balin says softly. Thorin does not reply, and he goes on, “Well, say they do have the others hostage. What are you planning on doing, if not paying the ransom?”

“Let them walk the others straight up to the base of the Mountain to show them off, then send our burglar down to steal them away.” Thorin catches Balin’s eye. “Kili, and any others who were injured, get safe passage to Erebor, and then we give them a royal welcome when they come in through the secret door.”

“It’s clever,” Balin concedes. “But it’s hardly good diplomacy, Thorin.”

“Neither is kidnap and ransom, and anyway, diplomacy doesn’t matter,” Thorin snaps. “All that matters is getting my Company safely to Erebor, as I promised.”

“And what if they’re not safe?” Balin’s face is suddenly serious. “Like I said, Thorin, we’ve had no word from them. What if Kili’s wound got infected, or one of them burned in the fires, or the Elves came and took them back to Mirkwood?”

“That didn’t happen -”

“You can’t know that,” Balin interrupts. “You made the choice to leave them there. You made the choice to let the Town fend for itself against Smaug. I’m not saying whether those choices were right or wrong, but you need to accept that there might be consequences.”

Thorin fumes for a moment, and then his anger deflates and he sighs, letting himself sag against the pillar beside him. “Do you think I don’t know that?” he asks, quietly. “Do you think every one of those possibilities hasn’t crossed my mind a thousand times over? I know they might not come back, Balin. I know that Kili might have -” He breaks off and starts over. “And if they do all come back I know they might not forgive the choices I made. I understand all of that. I just can’t think about it right now.” He looks up at Balin, and the other Dwarf sees something in Thorin’s face that makes his own break open in sympathy.

Before either of them can say anything more, they hear the patter of small, bare feet against stone and then Bilbo comes barreling around the corner. “Oh,” he says, pulling to a halt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“What is it, Master Burglar?” Thorin says it mostly to make Balin’s face change, and it works; his friend now looks fondly annoyed with him.

“I just thought you should know the others are back,” Bilbo says. “Well, nearly back, I should say. They’re coming up the Desolation now. Should be here by dawn.”

“Are they...”

Thorin can’t finish his question, but Bilbo answers him anyway. “They all seem to be in one piece. Or in four pieces, rather, in total. But they’re all accounted for and they’re all alive.” Bilbo waits a moment, but neither Dwarf speaks, so he gives a tight smile and backs away.

As soon as his footsteps fall silent, Balin turns to Thorin. “How long has it been, laddie?”

“How long has what been?” Thorin’s mind has taken off with Bilbo’s words, planning how to appropriately receive his heir into a kingdom that still does not properly exist.

“How long have you been in love with Kili?”

That snaps Thorin out of his thoughts, and he looks at Balin, mouth open to deny it. A moment’s glance at his friend’s face, however, is enough to close it again. Thorin sighs. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me,” Balin says, putting a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “And only now. How long?”

“I don’t know.” Balin raises an eyebrow, and Thorin insists, “I don’t, really. I know when I realized, but I don’t know when it started. Lake-Town,” he adds, cutting off Balin’s next question. Balin opens his mouth to ask another, but Thorin forestalls him. “I don’t wish to discuss this any further right now. I have no plans at the moment anyway, so there is nothing to talk about, at any rate.”

Balin looks for a moment like he might protest, but then he nods and drops his hand. “Alright, laddie. If you say so. Come on, let’s get things ready for their arrival.” Thorin follows him out of the treasure hall, casting one more look over his shoulder for the glint of a large, white gem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying everything! Feedback has been known to cure minor illnesses, such as the common cold. It's been proven with science.


	14. Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s wrong?” Fili asks, grabbing his arm. “Is it your leg?”
> 
> “No, no, my leg is fine,” Kili says. “Well, not fine, but it’s working.”
> 
> “What is it, then?” Bofur asks. He looks back at the entrance and the two Dwarves are gone, probably startled by their sudden stop and fetching the others. He turns back to Kili.
> 
> “I just don’t actually think I can do this,” Kili admits.

The four of them are just within waving distance of the front gate - Bofur thinks it’s Ori flailing around like that, and the tall shape next to him can only be Dwalin - when Kili stops in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Fili asks, grabbing his arm. “Is it your leg?”

“No, no, my leg is fine,” Kili says. “Well, not fine, but it’s working.”

“What is it, then?” Bofur asks. He looks back at the entrance and the two Dwarves are gone, probably startled by their sudden stop and fetching the others. He turns back to Kili.

“I just don’t actually think I can do this,” Kili admits. He looks embarrassed, but goes on, “It’s just, you know Thorin’s going to have some pompous ceremony in place for when we get there, and I don’t think I can play nice right now.”

Next to him, Oin nods, and Fili clasps his brother’s shoulder and gives it a friendly shake. “I agree,” Fili says. “I just didn’t want to be the one to say it.”

“I think we all agree,” Bofur puts in, and Oin nods again. “Luckily for all of us, I’ve been giving the matter some thought on the walk. I was gonna stop us right over that rock and talk it over, but Kili beat me to it.” Kili stops looking quite so ashamed, and Bofur goes on. “Now, I can’t speak for you lot, but I’m thinkin’ if Thorin’s sending nothing to Lake-Town, well, he can’t stop us sending bits of our shares down, now can he?”

“I was thinking the same,” Oin says, crossing his arms. “That money’s ours by rights.”

“So here’s what I’m thinking should happen here.” The four of them tighten their circle as Bofur outlines his plan.

Within half an hour all the details are sorted and they’re walking again. As they get nearer to the entrance, Bofur can make out several more shapes peering out at them. “I think they’re counting us,” he says to the others, pointing the shapes out. “Making sure one of us hasn’t dropped.”

“What d’you think?” Kili asks, looking at Fili. “Should I play up the limp?”

“Or just stop playing it down,” Oin puts in. “I need to track your pain levels anyway.”

The four of them keep walking, the banter between them dying as they approach the Mountain in the pre-dawn light. The entryway has cleared out, and two hours after their impromptu war council, Oin leads them through the front gate.

Bofur is the last of the four to enter the Mountain, and he comes to a halt almost without realizing that Fili and Kili, in front of him, have also stopped. The Hall is enormous, bigger than he had expected. Even with bare walls, it is impressive. Bofur looks at the floor and sees it covered in gold. It is not entirely level, as though the gold had cooled without being properly shaped and set, and Bofur realizes the yellow flecks they had seen an hour back, scattered all over the ground, must be the same material.

He shakes off images of a gold-plated Smaug and steps around the lads. The other nine Dwarves of the Company are arrayed in a semicircle around the entrance, and Bilbo has tucked himself into a corner to watch. He sees Bombur, drumming on his massive stomach and beaming. Next to him, Bifur raises a fist to the ceiling in greeting. Bofur returns it and looks back up at the ceiling, then at the walls. Through the gaps of arches he can see other rooms, spreading out as far as his eyes can reach.

The spell is broken a moment later by the sound of Thorin’s voice. He has placed himself at the farthest point of the semicircle, directly across from the entrance, and he steps forward as he opens his arms and says, “Dwarves of my Company, I welcome you to Erebor and the Kingdom Under the Mountain.”

Bofur bows low, and can feel Kili stiffen beside him. Oin begins chivvying the lads across the hall, and Bofur straightens and replies, “We are honored to be here.” From the corner of his eye he sees Oin reach Gloin and ask him something. Gloin extends a hand behind him and to the left, and Oin leads the lads towards the archway, beyond which presumably lies food and a place to bathe and rest.

Bofur wals forward to where Thorin has frozen, watching the three Dwarves walk away without so much as a by-your-leave. “And where are they going?” he asks Bofur as they pass out of sight behind a pillar.

“Food, if I had to guess. Oin will probably take a look at Kili’s wound again, and then they’ll sleep. We haven’t had much of that since the Company split, to be perfectly honest,” Bofur answers.

Thorin finally turns to look at Bofur. Balin walks up and stands at his shoulder; the rest of the Company is scattering, sensing the tension and wanting to be far away from the fallout. “And why,” Thorin asks, voice icy, “are you not joining them, if you are so tired and hungry?”

Bofur doesn’t drop his gaze. “It was decided that I should speak for the four of us when we arrived, seeing as how you’re not strictly speaking my clan leader.”

“And what do you have to say?” Thorin is raging under his cold demeanor, Bofur can tell. Next to him, Balin just looks sad.

“Let me explain to you our position,” Bofur begins. “We have just walked a solid day and night in flight, albeit slow flight, from people who wished to hold us hostage. They wanted to hold us hostage because we were left in their town, which was burned to the ground and attacked by Orcs as a direct result of our presence. Bard got us out before they could nab us, after sheltering us while Kili nearly died on his bed. And as far as our leader’s concerned, the people of Lake-Town deserve nothing in thanks for this, and so they felt the need to ransom us off instead.”

Thorin starts frowning before Bofur finishes. “What do you mean, nearly died? It was an arrow wound, for Durin’s sake.”

“It was poisoned, as it turns out.” Thorin goes pale and Balin looks at the ground. Bofur goes on, “So as it turns out, leaving him behind was the right call. He would have died if Tauriel hadn’t caught up to us.”

“Tauriel?” Balin asks. Thorin looks like he cannot form words at the moment.

“The Elf Kili was talking to in Mirkwood. She showed up the night before the dragon came, saved Kili’s life, and stayed for the battle. Claimed she was there to take us all prisoner again, but then she left without us.” Bofur shrugged. “Anyway, that’s our position. Now, our plan.”

“You have a plan?” Thorin has evidently gotten his speech back. “A plan for what?”

“Once the treasure has been counted up and the shares calculated, the four of us will each be sending a wheelbarrow down to Lake-Town,” Bofur says. Over Thorin’s shoulder, Balin starts smiling. “They’ll be out of our shares. If Lake-Town needs more, then that will also come out of our shares.”

“Do you ask for my blessing in this?” Thorin is angry again. Bofur almost likes it better than his speechless shock.

“We do not. The treasure is ours by rights, to do with what we will. I’m just informing you as to what’s going to happen.”

Thorin is silent for a moment. “I intend to be angry about this for a while, and I’m sure this is not the last we will say on this matter.” He claps Bofur on the shoulder. “Angry or no, I’m glad to see you back with us, all of you.” He drops his hand and steps away. “I need to speak to Kili.”

“About that,” Bofur says, grabbing him before he can leave. He drops his hand as soon as Thorin looks at him again. “You’re not the only one that’ll be angry for a while. I’d give the lads some time before you talk to them, they’re not pleased with you.”

“What, and you are?” Thorin asks, a faint smile appearing on his face.

“No, I’m not happy either,” Bofur says frankly, and the smile disappears. “But I didn’t nearly lose my life or my brother recently. They need food, and rest. Not you.”

The fight goes out of Thorin’s face at that, and he nods. Balin says, “You go on and join them, Bofur. You look like you’re about to drop.”

Bofur nods and leaves after the others. He turns at the edge of the Hall to see Balin and Thorin, heads close together, their words too quiet to echo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say this every time, but kudos and comments mean the world to me. Thanks for reading! Hope you're all enjoying it.


	15. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are stretched out side by side at the far end of the echoing hall. Thorin can’t figure out why they have chosen to bed down there at first, and then he realizes that the cloak balled up under Fili’s head is not his own, but Balin’s. Another moment and he realizes that Fili’s cloak is under Kili’s knee, lifting his leg while he sleeps. As he watches, Kili’s forehead tightens, and his hand goes to his wound. Thorin turns and leaves the chamber.

Thorin manages to stay away for a full four hours before he breaks and walks into the large chamber his Company has chosen to sleep in. It’s wide, but not as high-ceilinged as some of the grander halls in Erebor, and the walls duck in and out, providing many nooks and crannies for a Dwarf to curl up in.

It’s the middle of the day, so there are only four figures sleeping on the floor. Oin is settled near Gloin’s bag, sitting up with his head slumped to one side. Similarly, Bofur is using Bombur’s cloak as a pillow, his feet up on Bifur’s rucksack.

Fili and Kili are stretched out side by side at the far end of the echoing hall. Thorin can’t figure out why they have chosen to bed down there at first, and then he realizes that the cloak balled up under Fili’s head is not his own, but Balin’s. Another moment and he realizes that Fili’s cloak is under Kili’s knee, lifting his leg while he sleeps. As he watches, Kili’s forehead tightens, and his hand goes to his wound. Thorin turns and leaves the chamber.

The thrown-together kitchen is set up one room away from their camp, and Bombur is overseeing three boiling pots in a large fireplace, while Bifur sits next to him quietly chopping vegetables for their lunch. Balin is in a chair near the door, puffing on a pipe and watching Gloin, who is rifling through a stack of papers and making calculations at one of the large table, found miraculously whole in a corner somewhere and dragged in to eat off of. Thorin moves a chair next to Balin and sits down.

“Have you satisfied yourself that they’re alive, then?” Balin asks.

“For the most part, yes.” Thorin eyes the cooking going on at the fire. “How long until lunch is ready, do you think?”

“Around an hour, I’d say. Little more, little less.” Balin takes one last puff, then puts out his pipe and stows it in a pocket. “We’ll wake the sleepers then, they’ll be wanting hot food.”

“Kili’s having a nightmare. He won’t be asleep for much longer,” Thorin tells Balin, who nods.

“I’m not surprised. I didn’t sleep a full night for three months after Azanulbizar.” Balin sighs. “The lads are younger than I was then, and the battle smaller, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if they’re up before dawn for a while.”

The next twenty minutes pass in relative silence, save for the scratching of Gloin’s pen and the crackling of the fire. As Bombur gives each pot a firm stir, covers them, and lowers himself heavily into a seat at the table, Thorin can hear stirrings coming from the Sleeping Chamber, and then Fili and Kili, still rubbing sleep from their eyes, walk into the kitchen.

Kili’s limp is worse than it was, Thorin notes immediately. His leg must have stiffened while he slept. He makes straight for the table and sinks down, Fili on his heels, before either of them notice Balin and Thorin tucked into a corner.

When they do, Thorin stands. “Welcome to Erebor,” he says again. Fili looks like he wants to stand on ceremony too, but Kili makes no sign of getting up up again, so they both remain seated and nod to him instead. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough, thank you,” Fili says. “Although to be honest, we could have lain on nails and been comfortable enough to sleep.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kili retorts, the first words Thorin has heard him speak since the dock in Lake-Town. “Although I remember multiple occasions of you cursing stone as an insufficient mattress material, so maybe don’t speak for yourself either.”

“Fair enough.” Fili looks over at Gloin and his papers. “Oh, are you counting up the shares?”

“In a way,” Gloin says, lifting his head from where it has been bent over the sheets. “Just a couple of rough estimates, really, based on volume, mass, frequency of different kinds of treasure. Can’t be sure without a more thorough inventory, but that will take time and resources we don’t have right now. One thing’s for sure, though. We’re all going to be very rich.”

Fili slides a sheet that Gloin has finished with around to look at. Kili asks, “Is the hoard nearby?”

Gloin waves a hand absently over his shoulder. “Fairly well near the center of the Mountain, typical for dragons. Just keep going down and a little to the right, you’ll find it.”

Thorin sees Kili lean in and whisper something to his brother. Fili shakes his head, still engrossed in the calculations before him. Kili leaves the table, limping out in the opposite direction from which he entered. Balin gives Thorin a look, but it has no effect; Thorin stands up anyway and follows Kili.

The young Dwarf must stumble into a shortcut along the way, because by the time Thorin makes it to the hoard Kili is already there, sitting on the ledge of the landing and staring out at the glittering piles. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Thorin asks.

“Very,” Kili replies, not looking up. “This can’t all have come from Erebor and Dale.”

“May I sit?” Thorin gestures to the ledge, even though Kili still isn’t looking at him. Kili nods, and Thorin sinks down next to him. “The dragon came empty-handed to Erebor, but on at least three occasions over the next sixty years, reports came of him leaving and returning with sacks dangling from his claws. Reports that reached the Blue Mountains assumed it was meat, but looking at this, it was likely other hoards he managed to obtain, long-forgotten treasure troves that only he knew of.”

“So there’s no one to give it back to?” Kili asks, finally turning his head to look at Thorin.

“No, no one,” Thorin says. “No one came looking for it, at any rate, and there’s no record of anyone living in those areas for many, many years.”

Kili breaks his gaze and looks back over the piles. “So it’s ours.”

“It’s ours. To do with as we will.”

“Even to give to Lake-Town?” Kili looks at him again and his gaze is harder now, a challenge.

“Even to give to Lake-Town,” Thorin echoes. “Although I can’t say I like the idea of you giving your share away so freely.”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of leaving them high and dry,” Kili says, and then Thorin has an idea, an amazing idea, the best idea he’s ever had. He barely hears Kili say, “So it seems there’s nothing else to be done,” he is so caught up in his idea.

“Yes, there is,” Thorin says, reaching out and grasping Kili’s elbow. Kili turns to look at him, eyebrows furrowing into a frown, but before he can open his mouth, Thorin says, “I will do it. I offer to finance the rebuilding of Lake-Town, as a First Gift to you.”

Thorin doesn’t realize there is a roaring in his ears until it dies in the deafening silence that follows. Kili’s expression of shock lasts a few more beats, and then it slides into one of horror. “What?”

“I offer the building of -” is as far as Thorin gets before Kili is moving, shaking his arm off and climbing to his feet.

“I heard you.” He takes a few steps back and freezes, then shakes his head. “No. No, I decline your offer.”

The roaring starts up again as Kili turns his back. “Would you turn down your king so easily?” Thorin hears himself say, voice lower and rougher than he remembers it being a moment ago.

“Yes!” Kili throws over his shoulder, and then, quieter, “If that is who is offering me this,” and then he flees, leaving Thorin twisted around on the ledge, legs still hanging over the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and for leaving feedback if you choose to! :)


	16. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is delicious. Bombur has outdone himself, even though they really don’t have more supplies in Erebor than they did on the road. Kili only manages to finish his portion because Fili is next to him, watching him like a hawk.

Dinner is delicious. Bombur has outdone himself, even though they really don’t have more supplies in Erebor than they did on the road. Kili only manages to finish his portion because Fili is next to him, watching him like a hawk.

Sometimes Kili is irritated by Fili’s ability to know when something is wrong, but now he can only be grateful for it. Fili will pull him aside after the meal is finished, and Kili will tell him what has happened, and maybe then his stomach will stop tying itself in knots.

Indeed, as soon as they can make a getaway without drawing suspicion after the meal is finished, Fili wraps a hand around Kili’s elbow and draws him away from the table. “Something’s happened,” he says, as soon as they clear the threshold.

“Not here,” comes Balin’s voice from behind them, and he directs them to the right. “This conversation should happen outside the Mountain, I think.”

Fili and Kili follow him. It seems that the kitchen is closer to the edge of the Mountain than they realized, because it only takes them five minutes of walking, mostly uphill, before Balin runs a finger along the wall and a door opens. They step out onto a balcony of stone, high above the desert surrounding the Mountain.

Balin shuts the door behind them and turns to Kili. “Now, laddie, Thorin missed dinner and you look ill, so I’ve got a few guesses, but what happened?”

“What’s this got to do with Thorin?” Fili asks.

“Everything.” It’s the first word Kili has said since running away from Thorin, and it sticks in his throat.

“Come on, laddie,” Balin says. “Can’t help you if I don’t know what’s happened.”

“Thorin offered to send aid to Lake-Town. He offered to rebuild it out of his own pocket.” Kili pauses, but the hope on Fili’s face makes him go on. “As a First Gift to me.”

Fili’s face goes blank. “What?”

“I declined,” Kili says, and then he can’t stop the words. “I know I should have accepted, the town needs all the help it can get, but I just couldn’t. He looked half out of his mind, and I couldn’t breathe, and I had to get out, so I turned it down and ran, well, limped, and -”

“Kili,” Fili cuts in. “Take a breath. If you pass out and fall off, it’s a long way down.”

Kili shuts up and looks at him. Fili doesn’t look angry - or, rather, he looks angry but not at Kili. Kili can always tell whether his brother is angry at him or for him, and right now Fili looks ready to kill someone on his behalf.

A few moments pass, in which Kili tries to catch his breath and calm down, and then Balin heaves a deep sigh. “I have to admit, I didn’t see this one coming.”

“You knew it had something to do with Thorin,” Fili says.

“I thought he’d make some sort of offer to you,” Balin admits, looking at Kili. “I didn’t think it would be this soon, though, or this bad.”

“So you think I did the right thing, turning him down?” Kili asks. He hasn’t been able to stop asking himself that all through dinner.

“Kili,” Balin says, giving him the look that means he’s just asked a stupid question. “First Gifts are meant to be small, personal, and without obligation. What’s more, he’s offering you something you’ve already decided to handle yourself. It’s an insult. Just because he’s your king doesn’t mean you need to suffer it.”

Kili’s stomach unknots itself so fast that he nearly does lose his balance. Fili catches his arm again and holds it until he’s steady. “Remember what I said about falling over?”

“Sorry.” Kili straightens up. “So what do I do?”

“You’re not obligated to do anything,” Balin says. “I’ll be having words with him about this, but you’ve done nothing wrong.” He pauses for a moment, looking at Kili, then shakes his head and gives a sad chuckle. “Durin’s Death, but you’ve been unlucky.” He claps Kili on the shoulder. “Try not to dwell. Like you said, he’s not in his right mind. He won’t hold it against you when he is again.” With that, he opens the door and holds it for the brothers, then steps through and makes for the nearest entrance to the treasure hoard.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Kili turns to Fili. “We need to find the Arkenstone.”

“And fast,” Fili agrees. “The sooner it’s out of Thorin’s reach, the better. But how do we find it without him noticing?”

“Sorry to eavesdrop,” comes a voice from behind them, and they both spin around. Bilbo is standing not too far away, half-tucked into a fold of shadow. “But I may be able to help you with that.” He reaches a hand into his pocket and draws something out.

Fili takes a dreamy half-step towards it, and Kili can’t stop his own breath catching in his throat. It can only be the Arkenstone Bilbo is holding; it’s beautiful, large and flawless and glowing with its own inner light. But Kili notices Bilbo’s flinch away from Fili when he moves, so he grabs hold of his brother’s arm and says, “Put that away before someone sees.”

Bilbo does, and Fili blinks and takes a step back. “When did you get that?”

“The first time Thorin sent me in,” Bilbo says. “Just as soon as we got in the door he sent me off. The dragon woke up while I was in there, but this,” he pats his pocket, “was just sitting on top of one of the piles. Smaug must have found it and put it within easy reach ages ago. To be honest,” he says, dropping his voice, although anyone listening would already have heard too much for Kili’s comfort, “I think the dragon let me take it. I think he wanted to see what havoc he could wreak. Let us destroy ourselves over it and then take it back when we’re dead.”

“Does anyone else know you have it?” Kili asks.

Bilbo shakes his head. “Just you two, now. I think Thorin suspects, but he suspects everyone these days, it seems. I never leave it anywhere, I keep it in my pocket always. Not because I want it for myself,” he says, seeing the look on their faces. “I just want to make sure Thorin doesn’t know I kept it. He’d kill me.”

“Why didn’t you give it to him in the first place?” Fili asks, not unkindly.

Bilbo hesitates. “To be honest,” he says again after a moment, “he frightened me. I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know all of you pretty well after all this time, but I couldn’t see a familiar thing in his face when he came after me, and I don’t think he knew me either. So I didn’t give it to him, and I haven’t felt safe enough to leave it anywhere since then.” He reaches back towards his pocket. “Should I give it to you two now?”

“No,” Kili practically shouts, before Bilbo’s hand can enter his pocket. “No, it’s not safe for us to have it. If you can, keep it for a bit longer.”

“I can,” Bilbo says, dropping his hand. “It’s not a heavy burden.”

“Keep it until when?” Fili cuts in. “We still don’t have a plan.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bilbo says. “Gandalf was supposed to be here days ago, he was meant to meet us at the overlook. Something’s keeping him, but he’s bound to get here soon.”

“So that’s the plan, then,” Kili says, looking at his brother. “Bilbo will keep it until Gandalf gets here, and then we’ll give it to him. He’ll know what to do with it.”

“And then Thorin will cast us out, if he doesn’t kill us.” Fili’s voice is flat, but Kili can hear the hint of dry humor in it all the same.

“What choice do we have? He’s apparently gotten paranoid and I’ve just insulted him, so our standing in Erebor is not guaranteed anyway.” Fili nods, smiling wryly. “Bilbo, do you mind keeping it safe until Gandalf catches up to us?” Kili adds, turning to the Halfling.

“No, I don’t mind. What do you mean you’ve insulted him?”

“Never mind that,” Fili cuts in. Kili shoots him a grateful look. “We should get back to the group, they’ll start to wonder where we are.”

Bilbo looks like he wants to ask more, but he keeps his mouth shut, and the three of them wind their way back to the rest of the Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos-ing (it's a word, shut up), and commenting!


	17. Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil said nothing to her after she made her report, only gave orders for the immediate march from their kingdom, to the aid of the Men of Esgaroth-that-was. Legolas arrived some three hours after Tauriel, and was locked in council with his father until the ranks were fully assembled. Tauriel has passed no word with him either, and cannot shake the feeling that her concern for Kili has lost her everyone else she cares for.

The Elves march out of the palace less than a full day after Tauriel’s return, Thranduil at the front. Tauriel takes her place at the head of the Guard, and, watching her king, wonders how long that place will remain hers.

Thranduil said nothing to her after she made her report, only gave orders for the immediate march from their kingdom, to the aid of the Men of Esgaroth-that-was. Legolas arrived some three hours after Tauriel, and was locked in council with his father until the ranks were fully assembled. Tauriel has passed no word with him either, and cannot shake the feeling that her concern for Kili has lost her everyone else she cares for.

There is no time for such thoughts on the march, however, and Tauriel’s mind clears as she walks, focusing on nothing but the quiet footfalls around her and the soft movements of the forest in her peripheral vision.

They arrive at the shores of the Lake without incident, but Tauriel does not let her guard down, though many around her do. There have been too many Orcs in this area of late for her to be completely at ease. She orders her Guard to commandeer any boats that they can find still on this side of the water, and she can see her King organizing marching parties for those who cannot fit, to go around on foot.

Legolas catches up to her as she loads food onto the last boat and slips in next to her to stand at the back. The walking parties are already making their way down the shore, and the King is settled in the leading boat, so Tauriel gives the order to push off and the boats begin to move down the Lake.

“Will you not ride with your father?” Tauriel asks, finally turning to Legolas as the dock fades away into the mist that still covers the Lake, steam that had arisen after the dragon’s fall.

“I have spent the last full day in council with my father,” Legolas says. “I have not spoken to you since we parted before the dragon’s fall. I apologize for leaving so abruptly; I had business with their leader.”

His hands clench at this last, Tauriel notices. “Think nothing of it. The situation was well in hand.”

“I did not doubt you.” Legolas smiles at her, and Tauriel can hear the King in her mind, telling her not to smile back. She ignores the voice, too starved for comfort and friendship to resist. “Did the Dwarf live?”

She is startled for a moment by the question. “Yes. One of them had gone to fetch athelas, it seems, and returned after you left. I stayed to heal him.”

“I am glad.” Tauriel looks at him, properly surprised now, and he smiles again at her raised eyebrows. “I have no love for Dwarves, but morgul-death is painful and ugly, and I wish it on no living creature save Orcs.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “I know the Dwarf means something to you, and for that as well, I am glad he lives.”

Tauriel can’t think of anything to say, and gives a brief nod instead. Legolas seems satisfied, and they spend the rest of the voyage in friendly silence.

As the train of boats approaches the remains of the town, the front swings to the side, and Tauriel can soon see why. The great rotting corpse of the dragon is still visible through the handful of buildings that remain standing, and blocks the throughways across the center of town. Tauriel can see bodies still strewn about the wreckage. She cannot blame the Lake-Men for not retrieving them; the sight of the dragon, even its corpse, is enough to send a chill down her spine. Legolas notices and touches her elbow lightly, bringing her back to herself.

Finally, the prow of the last boat taps against the far shore. Legolas stays by her side as the food is unloaded and distributed among the Lake-Men. Tauriel has just passed the last sack over the side when Bard appears at her elbow. “Thank you,” he says. “The aid of the Elves may save those of us who yet live.”

Legolas seems content to say nothing, so Tauriel says, “The Men of Esgaroth-that-was have always been friends of the Woodland Realm. We would not repay that friendship by abandoning you in your hour of need.”

Bard inclines his head. “You have given much, but I must ask for news as well. Was there any sighting of survivors along the coastlines further back?”

“I saw none,” Tauriel answers, and looks to Legolas.

“Nor I,” he confirms. “But the mist is thick still, and hangs heavy even on Elven eyes. There are walking parties coming on foot, however, on either side of the Lake. They will bring any survivors they find.”

Bard nods again in thanks. His brow is still heavy, however, and Tauriel asks, “Do you look for someone in particular?”

“My daughter, Sigrid,” Bard says, and Tauriel’s heart sinks. “She has not yet been found.”

“She is strong, and though I saw her fight but a moment, she is skilled as well,” Tauriel says. “I do not believe she has succumbed to either Orc or flame.”

Bard looks grateful, but before he can respond, a voice barks out his name. Tauriel sees the grotesque Master looking out of a nearby tent. “Bard! Come here!” he bawls again.

Outside the tent stands Thranduil, and he beckons as well. Legolas and Bard begin to move towards the tent, and Tauriel turns, looking for a task that needs doing. “Tauriel,” her king calls, and she turns again. He gestures towards the tent, and she follows Legolas.

She has to fight down a quick wave of disgust as she enters; it is clear the Master has taken some pains to array his tent in what finery he could locate, while his people scrape and starve just outside. She catches Legolas’ eye and sees her thoughts mirrored there.

The Master lowers himself onto a pile of cloth that serves him as a seat; the rest of the group remains standing. “Who are these two?” he asks Thranduil, gesturing to the other Elves.

“My son and heir, Legolas, and Tauriel, my Guard-Captain,” Thranduil replies. “And you are the one who slew the dragon, I assume?” he says to Bard, who gives a terse nod. “Wonderful,” Thranduil goes on. “Now we are all introduced. You mentioned an important matter that requires discussion?” he prompts the Master.

“Oh, indeed, indeed.” The Master fusses with his hands and glares at Bard. “Something must be done about those Dwarves in Erebor. To be perfectly frank, they owe us money, and I don’t think they intend to pay up, you see.”

Thranduil nods gravely. “I have given some thought to this matter myself, as they are still, strictly speaking, my prisoners. However, are you not in possession of a part of their Company? It was my understanding that not all of the Dwarves left Lake-Town for the Mountain.”

“We were,” the Master says, eyes now shooting daggers at Bard, who has yet to react to anything being said. “But it seems that they were able to make an escape in the confusion after the great beast’s fall, or, heavens forbid, were aided by one of my men.” Bard still does not move, and Tauriel finds herself somewhat in awe of his restraint. “Either way, we don’t have them anymore.”

“I see.” The Master has Thranduil’s undivided attention and is clearly puffing up with pride; Tauriel avoids Legolas’ eye and barely manages to keep the smile from her face. Her king goes on, “This is a serious matter indeed. If you will allow me some small amount of time, I will think on it, and we will come up with a plan.”

The Master swells even more, and pushes himself to his feet, saying, “Yes, yes, of course. Any assistance would be most welcome.” Thranduil nods and sweeps out of the tent, Legolas on his heels. Tauriel slips out as well, after catching Bard’s eye in a farewell.

When she steps out into the air again, her king is saying to Legolas, “...meet the walking parties when they come in, and get their reports. Arrange for the building of more huts and tents as well, the night will be cold and I do not trust this mist.” Tauriel assumes he is speaking of what her duties will be, but then Legolas nods and bounds away towards the Lake-edge. Thranduil turns and sees her. “Ah, Tauriel. Come and walk with me a while.”

She falls into step beside him, and he leads her to the farthest edge of the ragged camp, and begins a slow march of the perimeter. They walk in silence for a moment, and then Thranduil looks at her. “You are frightened of something. I can see it in your face.” His tone is kind.

“Fear is irrelevant,” Tauriel replies. It is a lesson she has had to learn many times. “I will take whatever punishment you see fit without complaint, my lord.”

“Punishment?” Thranduil does not alter his slow, steady pace, but his voice is full of surprise. “What crimes have you committed that require punishment?”

“I disobeyed your orders, my lord,” Tauriel says slowly. “I left our kingdom without permission, and fought to protect your enemies.”

Thranduil tuts softly. “Crimes, to be sure, but I do not think they require punishment from me. The Dwarves are our prisoners, after all, and we must keep our prisoners safe.” Tauriel looks sidelong at his face; he is smiling. “And I cannot fault you for wanting to save the archer-Dwarf. Any life spared from Orcish treachery can only be to the good. No,” he continues, catching her eye, “I think I shall not hold these crimes against you. Put the thought from your mind.”

Tauriel does; she slides the fear of reprisal, correctly identified by her king, from her thoughts. “Then, if I may speak freely, my lord, I must admit some confusion as to why I am here and your son at my post.”

“Does it surprise you that I would value your counsel?”

“In matters of the Guard, perhaps not. In diplomatic matters such as the ones that face you now, yes, that would surprise me.”

“These are diplomatic matters with which you are already concerned.” Thranduil stops; they are now a good way out of earshot of the nearest mortal Men. “As you say, you have fought to protect these Dwarves, you have fought alongside them. What resistance would they give, if the Mountain were attacked?”

“Formidable resistance,” Tauriel says, already running through various defences that could be mounted from Erebor. “They are strong, and determined. One went from the brink of death to the battlefield in a matter of hours, and he has had days to recover since then. The rest have had even longer, with less serious wounds. A direct attack would not be effective.”

“What would be effective, do you think?”

Tauriel looks him in the face, expecting amusement, but sees only deadly earnest. “My mind is trained in the ways of battle, my lord,” she replies, bowing her head. “Battle would not be effective in this case, and so I leave strategies of other kinds to those better suited for them.”

He seems disappointed for a moment, before his face smooths over and he begins leading her back towards the main encampment. “Very well. But I think you underestimate yourself.” Tauriel has made a concerted study of controlling her face throughout her life, but it seems as though her king can read her anyway, for he goes on, “I do not want you as a match for my son. That does not mean that I do not value or care for you, Tauriel.”

Embarrassment flushes through Tauriel. It shuts her mouth and straightens her spine until Thranduil finally dismisses her, and does not fully recede until she has to bend in order to pick up a sack of grain from a small child and carry it to the girl’s mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Tauriel! Thanks for reading, everyone, and especially thanks for leaving feedback, it is the wind beneath my wings.


	18. Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days and days have passed since Bilbo’s revelation, and still Gandalf has not come. Fili watches as the small smudge of camp on the shore of the Lake grows and solidifies, Kili sitting silently on the Mountain’s edge next to him. He cannot help but think that, even if Gandalf had stayed to get the Lake-Men back on their feet, he still would have come by now.

Days and days have passed since Bilbo’s revelation, and still Gandalf has not come. Fili watches as the small smudge of camp on the shore of the Lake grows and solidifies, Kili sitting silently on the Mountain’s edge next to him. He cannot help but think that, even if Gandalf had stayed to get the Lake-Men back on their feet, he still would have come by now.

Thorin has spent the days in a flurry of activity, insisting on fortifying the secret entrance, and even beginning construction of a rudimentary wall outside the Front Gate. He barks orders at everyone and then leaves to his next project. Fili and Kili follow his orders until he is out of sight, and then one or both of them take up their now-customary place on the Mountainside and keep watch for any side of Gandalf. The other Dwarves in the Company shirk their duties as well; no one seems enthusiastic about the fortifications, not even Dwalin.

“Has Thorin spoken to you yet?” Fili asks, crouching down and swinging his legs over the edge until he is sitting beside his brother.

“Nothing but orders, and even then never directly, or to me alone.” Kili fiddles with something as he speaks. He sees Fili looking and opens his palm to reveal his runestone before continuing to spin it around his fingers. “What about you?”

“The same.” Their royal uncle seems to flee from Fili, even on those rare occasions when Kili is not with him.

Kili continues fiddling for a moment before stuffing the runestone back into his pocket. “I just hope -”

“Enough,” Fili cuts him off. He has seen this worry in his brother’s face since he turned down Thorin’s proposal. “I do not care about being heir to the Mountain Kingdom, Kili. I never have, nor did I ever believe it would actually happen, even if we made it this far. If Thorin disowns me, then all the better. We can leave then, go home to Mother and fulfill our promises.”

Kili looks down and Fili’s heart aches to see his brother’s pain. “I don’t want to see you punished for my deeds.”

“It would be no punishment, Kili,” Fili repeats. “I will not be anywhere you are not welcome, even in the King’s favor.” He is granted a small smile for that, and then sees movement across the desert in the corner of his eye. “What’s that?” he says, turning to look at it full-on. “Do you see that?”

“Someone’s riding from the camp,” Kili says, rising and extending a hand to pull Fili to his feet. “I can’t make out who it is.”

“Nor can I. Wait here,” Fili says, turning to duck under the archway behind them and into the Mountain. “I’ll get Bilbo.”

Fili finds Bilbo in the kitchens, the first place he looks, and manages to extract the Halfling from his bread and cheese without raising too many eyebrows. “Someone is riding across the desert,” Fili explains as he leads Bilbo back to his brother. “Kili and I can’t make out who it is, but your eyes are sharper.”

Bilbo swallows his last mouthful as they breach the Mountain wall, and scrambles up next to Kili onto the watcher’s post. “I see him,” he says, following Kili’s pointing finger. He squints and leans a little further from the edge; Kili fists a hand in the back of his waistcoat to steady him. “I do believe - yes, yes,” Bilbo says, stepping back from the edge. “The rider is tall, with a pointed cap. I do believe Gandalf has returned to us at last.”

“Mahal be praised,” Fili mutters under his breath. He looks at Kili, who is nearly grinning for the first time in days. Even if their plan does not go as hoped, Gandalf’s arrival will at least put an end to the waiting.

“Should we tell the others?” Bilbo asks, as the three of them duck back into the dark hallway behind the arch.

“We’d better,” Kili says. “They’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

“Oin, Bifur, Dwalin, and Ori are at the secret entrance,” Bilbo says. “Thorin and the rest are down in the treasure hoard.”

“You go to the hoard,” Fili says, and Bilbo nods. “Kili and I will get the rest.”

Bilbo scurries off down into the depths of the Mountain, and Fili and Kili turn a corner and go up, making for the secret door. Fili eyes his brother’s gait as they walk; his limp has improved under the rest Oin and his brother have imposed on him, but Fili suspects Kili is still underplaying it, to escape their fussing.

The brothers find the secret entrance almost entirely unguarded. Oin is asleep on the Doorstep, as they have taken to calling the ledge beyond the door; Bifur is sitting on an outcropping of rock and whittling something that looks horrifying; and Dwalin and Ori are next to each other on the ground, both looking at what Ori is sketching. Fili whistles and the three conscious Dwarves all snap to attention, only to relax when they realize who has come.

“Don’t do that to us,” Ori scolds, stowing his pen and shutting his notebook. Even Dwalin looks discomfited by the scare.

“Pick yourselves up,” Kili says, ducking past Fili to kick Oin lightly in the side. “Someone’s coming, and we think it’s Gandalf. Bilbo’s telling Thorin now, he’ll probably call a meeting.”

The four Dwarves haul themselves to their feet. “How’s the leg, lad?” Oin calls, as the group makes its way down towards the kitchen.

“Fine, fine,” Kili grumbles. Oin raises his eyebrow at Fili, who nods. If Fili ever shakes his head, Oin has full permission to sedate Kili for a day or so, as they decided after a few days of Kili’s reluctance to rest.

Their group makes it to the Gallery of the Kings, the floor still a lumpy sheet of gold, a mere minute before the others arrive. Thorin bolts for the main entrance and peers out. He must find Gandalf’s moving shape quickly, because he turns back after a moment and takes in the group of Dwarves behind him. Fili realizes with a start that Thorin hadn’t even noticed the others following him out of the hoard. “What are you all doing here?”

There is a moment of painful silence. Fili catches Bilbo’s eye; the Halfling looks just as confused as he feels. Finally Fili steps forward and says, “Gandalf is returning to us. We thought there would be a meeting, to determine how to greet him.”

“Gandalf has been absent for far too long,” Thorin growls. “There will be no greeting. Back to your posts, all of you. I will await the wizard alone.”

When Balin takes a step towards him, Thorin raises a hand. Balin halts and says, “Thorin, he’ll still be hours away yet. Come back inside, for a while at least. There’s still work to be done.”

“Then go and do it,” Thorin snaps, and Balin takes a visible step back. Fili catches Kili’s eye and sees his own thoughts mirrored in the frown upon his brother’s face. Thorin turns back to look at the speck of Gandalf on the horizon, a clear dismissal, and the rest of the Company disperses back to their stations, Bilbo accompanying Fili and Kili back to their watching-spot on the side of the Mountain.

“I’ve never seen him talk to Balin like that,” Bilbo says, once the three of them are safely in the open air.

“I don’t think he ever has,” Kili replies, sliding down the rock to a seated position. “Then again, I’m not sure how much of _him_ is still doing the talking, these days.”

Fili drops down next to him and presses their shoulders together. He turns to Bilbo and says, “Do you think you can get a private word with Gandalf tonight?” He does not dare add _And give him the Arkenstone_ , even alone as they are.

“I can’t be sure, but I’m going to try,” Bilbo says. “I’m not sure Gandalf won’t like the excuse not to talk with Thorin all night, to be perfectly honest. He never seemed to have much patience for him, even before, well...” He trails off, shooting an uncomfortable look at the brothers.

“Before the gold-sickness took him,” Fili supplies, and he can feel Kili sag next to him. They’ve never said it before, not aloud, but it has become all too clear that Thorin is succumbing to the same madness they have heard their mother speak of, in private conversations with Balin and their father, that took their grandfather and great-grandfather both.

“Right,” Bilbo says. “Before that.” He sits down on the other side of the archway, and the three of them watch the desert in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, I'm on tumblr at thewalrus-said, if anyone wants to find me over there.


	19. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had, as time passed, become evident that Gandalf had not set off alone, merely ridden ahead of a small company also coming from the remains of Lake-Town, which had become visible a few hours before Gandalf’s arrival, and Kili finds himself fretting over them almost more than over the Arkenstone.

“What do you suppose is happening?” Kili asks, fingers drumming nervously on his uninjured thigh.

“I’m not sure,” Fili replies. “It’s been ages, though. I hope Bilbo’s alright.”

Kili hums an agreement. Several hours ago, Bilbo slipped away after dinner to find Gandalf. The wizard had arrived at Erebor just before hunger drove Kili, Fili, and the halfling from their perch on the Mountainside, and neither he nor Thorin had appeared at dinner. Kili and Fili had eaten quickly and gone to wait for Bilbo in the Sleeping Chamber.

It had, as time passed, become evident that Gandalf had not set off alone, merely ridden ahead of a small company also coming from the remains of Lake-Town, which had become visible a few hours before Gandalf’s arrival, and Kili finds himself fretting over them almost more than over the Arkenstone.

“I’m sure -” Fili starts, then cuts himself off. “There he is.”

The Halfling steals silently through the Sleeping Chamber towards the brothers. “Sorry it took so long. Gandalf and Thorin were still talking when I found them, so I thought I’d get some eavesdropping in before talking to Gandalf. He saw me, mind, but I rather thought he approved of the notion.”

“Did you hear anything interesting?” Fili asks, sitting forward.

Bilbo nods. “It seems like the group following Gandalf is made up of some leaders of Elves and Men. The Master of Lake-Town is leading it, and Bard came too. Thranduil is among them also, along with his son and the Guard-Captain.” Kili feels his heart jump. Tauriel. Fili presses his shoulder to Kili’s, and Kili uses the pressure to refocus on Bilbo’s words. “Apparently it’s just a diplomatic mission, but it could get ugly quickly, from what I understand.”

Kili catches Fili’s eye for a moment, wondering just how ugly things could get, and then turns to Bilbo again. “And Gandalf? Did you speak to him?”

Bilbo nods again. “I followed him out when he and Thorin were finished. He’s set up by the Front Gate, waiting for the others. He has it now. I’m not sure what he plans to do with it, mind, but he said we did the right thing getting it to him. I didn’t mention your names,” Bilbo says, cutting off the question halfway out of Fili’s mouth. “But he tried to get me to come with him. Seemed to think Thorin would kill me in my sleep for this. I had to tell him I had some protectors. Not that I expect you to be bodyguards, of course,” he adds. “Just said it to calm Gandalf down.”

“Of course we’ll protect you,” Kili says, slightly offended. Fili nods next to him. “It’s the least we can do.”

Bilbo huffs slightly and looks down. “Well, I’m grateful, then.” A moment of silence passes, and then the Halfling looks back up. “What happens now?”

“I guess we wait,” Fili says. “The rest of the envoy should get here soon, if Oin’s estimations are right. Whatever happens next will happen in the morning.”

Bilbo nods and stands. “I agree. I don’t expect Gandalf to keep it from the others, he mentioned showing it to Thranduil. Either way, I doubt tomorrow will go as smoothly as Gandalf hopes. Get some sleep,” he finishes, turning and padding away towards his own resting place.

“Easier said than done,” Fili mutters at his retreating back. Kili snorts; his own nerves are humming, nearly too much for him to remember what sleep is. “Come on,” Fili says, rising and holding out a hand to help Kili up. “Let’s sneak into the kitchens.”

They find Bombur asleep in the corner of the kitchen, a miraculously-untouched loaf of bread resting on his stomach, moving up and down with his breathing. Kili nabs it and finds a hunk of cheese, moving quietly back out into the dining area. Fili follows him, carrying two pies and a jug of ale.

The brothers feast, remembering as they do the last midnight banquet they had eaten, the night before setting out from their home for Bag End and the Quest. Their mother had scolded them to sleep just as sternly as Bilbo, and sleep had proven just as hard to find.

The brothers had dozed off early in the morning on that occasion, and it must have happened again, because Kili jolts awake to the sound of trumpets echoing through the Mountain. Fili, bleary-eyed and still clutching a crust of bread, scowls and stands. He tears the crust in two and tosses half to Kili. “Come on. It must be starting.”

It has, in fact, already started. Kili and Fili are the last Dwarves out the Front Gate; they manage to slip to the far left of the group without Thorin noticing their late arrival. Kili scans the small bunch gathered at the base of the Mountain; Gandalf stands at the front, along with the Elf-king and the Master of Lake-Town. Just behind the Master stand Bard and Sigrid, who is staring back at Kili, smirking. Kili jabs his brother in the side and points, waving. Sigrid waves back.

Kili keeps looking at the small crowd. Most of it is made of Men and Elves he has never seen before, although he does recognize the Elf-prince who had scowled so fiercely at him back in Mirkwood.

And then he finds her, standing in the back, arms crossed. Her eyes are on her king, who is speaking, but before Kili can look away she catches his gaze. Just for a moment, but it is enough to make Kili’s face hot, and he turns his attention to the diplomatic disaster occurring to his right.

“I will not respond to threats,” Thorin booms. Fili, who has been paying more attention than Kili, drops his head briefly and shakes it before looking up again. “The Kingdom of Erebor, and everything inside it, belongs to the People of Durin by rights. Force of arms will not help you.”

“No one is threatening you, Thorin son of Thrain,” Gandalf retorts, palpable exasperation in his voice.

“And not everything within the Mountain belongs solely to you and yours,” Thranduil cuts in smoothly. “Much of the riches of Dale were taken by the Beast, and kept in its hoard. Surely you cannot dispute that claim?”

“Am I to believe that you support this claim out of the goodness of your heart,” Thorin sneers, “when less than a month ago you would have looted me of my own in exchange for a few boats?”

“The Woodland Realm and Esgaroth-that-was have long been allies,” Thranduil sends back. “And I seek only what is mine, as do these Men, and as you seek to protect what is yours.”

“Enough of this!” Gandalf takes a step forward, looking up at Thorin. “This is a discussion for another time. The purpose of this only is only to claim what you promised the Lake-Men, nothing more.”

“Enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over,” the Master simpers. “And now that we are in true need of such aid, through your actions no less, you shut your gates to us and would have us starve!”

“And you come to me with weapons, in hopes of intimidating me!” Thorin is bristling, and sends a sidelong glance at Kili and Fili. “I have consulted with my Company and they would not have Lake-Town or Dale rebuilt out of the riches of Erebor, and nor would I.”

Bard, standing silent and grim the whole time, looks to Kili at that, a frown crossing his features. Kili shakes his head and mouths, “Not true.” Bard seems to believe him, praise Mahal, and Kili turns to look at Tauriel. She is moving off to one side, making for a large chunk of rock, displaced by Smaug, that the Dwarves have been unable to shift. Thorin has turned his attention back to Gandalf and the others, so Kili slips to his left and meets her there, limping over the stony ground.

“It isn’t true,” Kili says as soon as they are face-to-face behind the boulder. “I swear it isn’t, not like he said.”

“I believe you,” Tauriel says, and Kili lets out a long breath of relief. “All of us can tell that Thorin is out of his senses. What do you mean, not like he said?”

“He did offer to rebuild the town, but it was wrong, I couldn’t have accepted it. It was offensive,” he says, desperate for her to understand. “We have no intentions of letting Lake-Town go unaided, but the way he offered -”

“Peace,” Tauriel interrupts. She reaches out and touches a finger lightly to Kili’s cheek, and then drops her hand. “I should not have asked. Forgive me. Thranduil has told me many times that my curiosity would be my undoing.”

Fighting the urge to say how much he appreciates her curiosity, Kili searches around for an alternative and comes up with, “Where was Sigrid? We were worried about her.”

Tauriel smiles. “A walking party found her and a group of survivors on the shores of the Lake. She was organizing them into ranks for the trip to the main encampment when our Elves came upon them.”

“I knew I liked her.” Kili grins, and then whips his head around when a small rock crashes into the other side of the boulder. Fili, looking back at him, gestures with his head towards Thranduil, who is holding the Arkenstone aloft. Dwalin has two hands fisted in the back of Thorin’s clothes, keeping him from jumping directly onto the Elf-king.

“I have to go,” Kili says, turning back to Tauriel. She nods and moves off as well, and he limps back to his brother’s side. From the corner of his gaze, he can see her slip back into the crowd, taking up position next to the prince. “What happened?” he hisses in Fili’s ear.

“Negotiations are not going well,” Fili whispers back. “Apparently the Arkenstone is of Elvish make. Something called a Silmaril.”

“The Silmarils belong by creation and by conquest to the Feanorian Elves,” Thranduil is intoning. “The Dwarves have no proper claim to this one, dead and mutilated though it may be.”

“Dead and mutilated?” Kili murmurs. “Was it alive?”

“Seems to have been,” Fili answers. “Thror wouldn’t have been able to cut and shape it if it hadn’t died under the weight of the Mountain, so far as I can tell.”

“I know of no Silmaril,” Thorin responds, finally giving up attempting to attack Thranduil; Dwalin releases the back of his cloak. “The Arkenstone which you hold is a relic of my family. If it is an Elvish Silmaril now, as you claim, it would have been one when you saw it last, in my grandfather’s keeping.”

“I could not be sure what it was from such a distance,” Thranduil says, still holding up the Arkenstone, which gleams in the light. “It is nearly unrecognizable as it is. Nonetheless, it belongs to the Elves. However,” he adds, raising his voice. “A bargain can be struck.”

“I will not bargain with an Elf for an heirloom of my line!” Thorin yells, but Thranduil cuts him off.

“Release an equivalent of the gold lost from Dale to the Men of Lake-Town, and the White Gems of Lasgalen to me, and this Silmaril, this Arkenstone, will be taken across the sea, to what descendents of Feanor remain in the Undying Lands,” Thranduil says. Thorin scoffs. EVen Kili wrinkles his brow in confusion at the Elf-king’s strategy. Then Thranduil goes on, and Kili understands. “Refuse us what is rightfully ours, and I will return this to you. It will consume your mind as it did your grandfather and your father, and once you are a shriveled shadow of your former self, as they were by the end, you will watch it destroy those who come after you.”

Every single Dwarf in the Company save Kili turns to look at Fili. Kili feels his brother stiffen next to him as he stares, unblinking, back at Thorin. Kili looks at Gandalf, who has one hand tightly wrapped around his staff.

Seconds pass, tense and silent, and Kili begins to think that Thorin may yet yield to sense, and then the moment breaks. Thorin drops his gaze from Fili and reaches for Bilbo at his right side, grabbing him by the hair. “Traitor!” Thorin shouts, shaking the Halfling.

“Enough!” roars Gandalf again. He strikes his staff upon the ground and a thunderclap echoes around the valley. Thorin starts, then throws Bilbo to the ground.

“You are no longer welcome in Erebor, Master Burglar,” he says. “Find shelter with your new friends, for you shall have none here while I draw breath.” He turns on his heel and stalks back through the Gate.

Silence reigns for another heartbeat, and then Thranduil lowers the Arkenstone and hands it to Gandalf, who wraps it in a fold of his cloak. “Then you bring your damnation upon yourself, Thorin Oakenshield,” the Elf-king says, almost quietly, before turning himself and making for the temporary camp a few hundred yards down the valley. The rest of the group follows him, Tauriel casting one last glance at Kili before following her king away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all! Hope you're enjoying it. As always, kudos and comments are loved, and you can find me on tumblr at thewalrus-said.


	20. Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur can cut the tension in Erebor with a knife. “It’s been two days since the Elf-king and the Lake-Men were here,” he says to Bombur, who is slicing potatoes next to him. Bombur rarely responds when not asked a direct question, which makes him lovely to talk to, Bofur’s found. “Thorin’s not given them anything, and they haven’t sent the Arkenstone back. I’m beginning to wonder if they ever really meant that threat.” He leans back in his chair and nudges Bombur with his foot. “How long do you think we should stick it out for, before cuttin’ our losses and going back to the Blue Mountains?”

Bofur can cut the tension in Erebor with a knife. “It’s been two days since the Elf-king and the Lake-Men were here,” he says to Bombur, who is slicing potatoes next to him. Bombur rarely responds when not asked a direct question, which makes him lovely to talk to, Bofur’s found. “Thorin’s not given them anything, and they haven’t sent the Arkenstone back. I’m beginning to wonder if they ever really meant that threat.” He leans back in his chair and nudges Bombur with his foot. “How long do you think we should stick it out for, before cuttin’ our losses and going back to the Blue Mountains?”

Bombur looks up from his potatoes at that, but before he can answer the sound of pounding feet echoes in the hallway outside, and then Ori bursts in, Dwalin at his heels. “Word’s come,” Dwalin huffs. “Dain’s on the march from the Iron Hills. Word’s spread about the Beast’s death and he’s bringing reinforcements.”

“But,” Ori interrupts, and Bofur suddenly wonders when they started speaking as a pair. “There’s also a huge Orc army on the move too, coming from Gundabad, apparently. Bilbo’s not sure which bunch is meant to get here sooner.”

“Bilbo?” Bofur says, getting to his feet. He hasn’t had a chance yet through the onslaught of information. “You’ve been in touch with Bilbo?”

“He was just in an hour ago to bring the news,” Ori says. “Ran right into Thorin, too, but Thorin was distracted and Bilbo slipped away again. We’ve been rounding everyone up for a war council in the Sleeping Chamber, come on.”

“Thorin’s taking advice?” Bofur whispers to Bombur as they leave. Dwalin hears him, judging by the frown he throws over his shoulder, but he doesn’t say anything.

Bofur and Bombur aren’t the last ones into the Chamber, as it happens; Gloin and Oin come in a full thirty seconds later. Bofur settles himself onto the floor next to Bifur, and Bombur thumps down on Bofur’s other side. Thorin is pacing at the head of the small group of Dwarves, wringing his hands together. His face is red. Bofur can see Fili and Kili tucked away into a corner as far from Thorin as they can get, Balin a few feet in front of them. He catches Fili’s eye and gestures to the space just behind him, but Fili shakes his head and turns his gaze back to Thorin.

Once the whole Company is settled into place, Thorin stops packing and faces the crows. “As all of you have no doubt heard by now,” he begins, “my cousin Dain is marching down from the Iron Hills with an army of battle-hardened Dwarves to drive these invaders from our borders!” He pauses for applause. The silence is ringing. He goes on, “The goblin army on the move has no chance of getting into the Mountain, not if we shut our doors to all except Dain and his army. I promise you all, we will weather this storm.”

He pauses again, and this time someone speaks up immediately. “Shall we stay indoors, then,” Balin asks, “and leave Dain to fight alone? Are we not to help him when he arrives?”

“And what about everyone else?” Kili asks, voice loud from his place in the back. Bofur cranes his neck to look back at him; he is on his feet. “All the Men, and the Elves, that are out there. And Bilbo! Are we just to leave them all to die, so long as the thirteen of us can be safe?”

“The best thing we can do for Dain is give him a safe place to fight towards,” Thorin says to Balin. For a moment Bofur thinks he will ignore Kili entirely, but then Thorin goes on, “As for the rest, I would gladly place all of your lives above all of theirs, yes. Gandalf will fight with them, however, so I do not think it will come to that.”

Dwalin’s voice comes last, from down front. “There is an entire Orc horde on the march, Thorin, coming for us. We have to fight.”

“Enough!” Thorin bellows; his voice echoes through the hall. “I have given my orders; we will shut the Gate tomorrow morning, and wait for Dain to fight his way through to us. If any Dwarf does not wish to follow these commands, he is more than welcome to leave my Company and my kingdom.” Thorin turns on his heel and stalks off, towards the exit that will take him to the treasure hoard the quickest. Bofur turns his head in time to see Fili and Kili exchange a look, before Bifur hauls on his arm until he stands. By the time he’s up, the lads have vanished, off to wherever they’ve been hiding recently. Bofur follows Bombur back into the kitchen.

Bofur wakes the next morning before dawn - not that he can see sunlight in the mountain, but he can feel in his bones that the day is still young. He kicks Bombur lightly to wake him up, and points his head towards where Fili and Kili usually sleep; they’re gone, as is Balin. As Bofur stands and gives his brother a hand up, he can see others in the hall beginning to stir; Gloin sees them and nods as he shakes Oin awake.

The Dwarves make their way, in pairs and trios, through the winding hallways and into the armory that’s been set up next to the hoard. The lads are there, strapping themselves into armor they’ve pieced together from what the Lake-Men gave them and what Smaug stole. Balin is sorting swords, daggers, and axes from the stacks of salvaged weaponry in the corner. Bofur grabs a long sword and sidles up next to Kili. He pulls down a helm that will fit his hair and says, “Will that bow do, do you think?”

“It was made for a human child,” Kili admits. “Bain got it for me. It’s not the one you made me, and don’t think I don’t miss that one every day, but it worked well enough against Smaug.”

“I’ll make you a new one when this is all over,” Bofur promises. “Better than the last, I was rushed on that one. You’ll be better than an Elf with it.”

“I can only dream of such skill,” Kili says, but he’s grinning, which was Bofur’s goal anyway.

They both look around as Dwalin enters, making twelve Dwarves packed into the makeshift armory. “Wasn’t sure if he’d be joining us,” Bofur mutters to Kili.

“Me either,” the lad mutters back.

Dwalin is almost fully outfitted when the final Dwarf in Erebor walks into the doorway and crosses his arms. “So,” Thorin says, surveying the group. “You have all decided to betray me.”

Dwalin opens his mouth, but it’s Kili who speaks first. “No one’s betraying you, Thorin,” he says, exasperation and anger in his voice. “It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s got everything to do with the people outside the Mountain who will die facing an enemy meant for us.” He swings a quiver of arrows up onto his shoulder and makes for the doorway, Fili on his heels. “You exiling us for it is the only thing that’s got anything to do with you.” He reaches Thorin, still standing in the doorway. “Excuse us,” he says, and shoulders past his king.

Thorin’s face falls, and then the rest of the Company is moving, putting the final touches on their slapdash armor and grabbing daggers to tuck into their boots. Dwalin is the first to follow the lads, eyes never lifting from the floor; Bofur and Bombur make up the rear. They follow the train of Dwarves up through the footpaths of their Kingdom, until they all stand in a line just outside of the Front Gate.

The chaos takes a moment to works its way through Bofur’s mind, and then it all registers and his stomach sinks. They’re late; the battle is already in full swing, raging all around the base of the Mountain. Bofur can see Elves and Men fighting together, back-to-back in the thick of it, and a moment later he sees Dwarves, fitted in the distinctive armor of the Iron Hills, cutting their way through from the outside. “There’s too many,” Bofur says out loud, though the din is too loud for anyone to hear. The Orcs are everywhere, half of them are on Wargs, and Dain’s army is outnumbered twenty to one. “There’s too many of them,” he repeats. “We don’t have a chance.”

Bifur looks at him for a moment, then claps a heavy hand onto his shoulder and hefts his boar spear. The whole thing has taken less than a minute, Bofur realizes, tightening his grip on his axe. Down at the other end of the line, he sees Kili fit an arrow to his bow, take aim, and release. As the arrow finds its mark, Bofur catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and turns to see Thorin, sword held aloft in one hand. Thorin bellows a nearly-indistinct war cry, and the Company leaps into the fray as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit late with this one, sorry! The next chapter will go up on Friday, and then it should be back to the usual Monday-Thursday posting schedule. Thanks for reading!


	21. Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She does not want to die this day, but she knows she will, in all likelihood. The enemy has too many bodies, two stepping up to replace each one she cuts down. If her king gives the order to retreat she will go, but if he does not, Tauriel knows she will fall this day at the end of an Orcish blade, and never see what Middle-Earth is like, west of the Greenwood.

The clash of arms rings all around her; Tauriel has never been in a battle this big or this wild before. The Elves of the Woodland Realm have not given battle in earnest since her youth, when she was too small to take part, and it is even more chaotic than she could have anticipated.

She does not want to die this day, but she knows she will, in all likelihood. The enemy has too many bodies, two stepping up to replace each one she cuts down. If her king gives the order to retreat she will go, but if he does not, Tauriel knows she will fall this day at the end of an Orcish blade, and never see what Middle-Earth is like, west of the Greenwood.

As Tauriel slices the head off one Orc and shoves another into Legolas’ waiting daggers with the momentum of her sweep, she sees the spark of a sword coming down towards her head; she has a moment to brace herself and send a prayer to the Valar before her scalp is split.

“Tauriel!” comes Legolas’ bellow from behind her, but there is no need; the blow never lands, and the Orc falls with a crude arrow in its throat. _Kili_. She catches his eye as he lowers his bow. The look lasts a moment, and then the Dwarves leap into the mayhem, adding their cries and the sounds of their metal weaponry to the din. _Oromë Aldaron, let me live through this day, Tauriel prays again as she puts her dagger through a Warg’s eye_.

As the battle rages on, it seems that her prayers may be answered. The thirteen Dwarves of Erebor push the line of Orcs and Wargs back from the main Gate, farther than such a small number has any right to move them. The Dwarf-captain Dain brings his troops around to hem the enemy in from behind, trying to pin them between his army, the Dwarves from the Mountain, and the Elves and Men to the south.

Time begins to blur and blend together as Tauriel’s arms grow weary and her voice grows hoarse. She sees her king dealing death to rows of Orcs at a time before falling back for a few moments’ rest. She sees Bard and his children standing back-to-back, arrows flying and staffs lunging out from their tight circle. She sees the Dwarves beginning to tire faster than the Elves, their line falling back closer and closer to the Mountain. Mithrandir, it seems, has made his way to a higher spur and is shooting lightning flashes into the mass of Orcs attempting to swarm up at him. None of it is making any difference. Her prayers will go unanswered. The thirteen Dwarves were not enough.

As if reading her thoughts, Legolas pulls close to her to say in her ear, “This will not go on much longer. Look to the Dwarf-king.”

The fighting dies down almost instantly after he speaks, the Orc troops realizing what is going on at the same moment Tauriel does. Thorin and the Pale Orc stand in the middle of a cleared space, circling each other. _Single combat_ , Tauriel realizes. The Dwarf-king must have issued the challenge to spare his companions’ lives.

_No, not to spare them_ , she thinks, reading the look upon Thorin’s face. _He knows full well that this will not stop anything. He is giving them a moment to breathe and recoup. At the cost of his own life_.

Thorin and Azog begin, swords clashing in the silence that has fallen over nearly all the battlefield. There is still a fight going on, Tauriel realizes, about fifty yards past the combat circle that has formed. She scans the gathered crowd, counting all of the original Company ringed around their king. No, not all - Tauriel looks again and counts only ten Dwarves, plus Thorin. Fili and Kili are missing.

She wants to run to them, to lend her sword and arrows against whatever foe they face, but Legolas is pressed to her side and she cannot miss the outcome of Thorin’s fight. As the minutes tick on, Thorin begins to slow and his feet to stumble. He still matches Azog thrust for thrust, but any hopes he had of winning are gone from his face before long.

The sounds of the other battle end abruptly, and then Tauriel can hear a guttural shout of victory. _Thorin be damned_. Tauriel moves, almost before she is aware of it, but Legolas clamps a hand around her elbow. “Wait,” he hisses in her ear. “Wait.”

A moment later, Fili and Kili stumble through to the inside borders of the circle. Fili throws something into the ring; it rolls into Azog’s feet, Bolg’s eyes still staring up at the Pale Orc. Azog hesitates, looking at the severed head, and Thorin stabs him through the throat.

A breathless moment passes, and then Thorin pulls his sword out and cuts Azog’s head clean off. Tauriel sees joy on his face, a terrible, beautiful, momentary joy, and then he turns to his nephews in time to see them fall.

Tauriel finally moves then, but so does everyone around her. Thorin is lost under a swarm of Orcs; by the time Tauriel has reached Kili she can see none of the Dwarves save Oin and Bifur, hunched over the wounded princes. Legolas is still with her, she realizes with a pang of gratitude, and she sets to defending the four Dwarves from the press of bodies around them.

“Thoronath! Thoronath, Tauriel!” she hears Legolas cry a few heartbeats later, and then the cry is taken up by the Dwarves, Elves, and Men around her. “Thoronath! The Eagles! The Eagles are come!”

The eagles swoop down over the crowd, huge shadows covering swaths of Orcs, and then massive boulders are falling from the side of the Mountain, loosed by the eagle’s talons and aimed for the places where Orcs are thickest and Elves, Men, and Dwarves are thinnest. “Get back!” Mithrandir’s voice booms, impossibly loud, and she stumbles out of the way as first one and then another eagle alights briefly in front of her and takes off again, each holding a Dwarf prince in their talons. She grabs Oin and hauls him to his feet. “Beorn!” he shouts at her in reply, and she has a short, confused moment to wonder whether this is some sort of Dwarvish expression of gratitude before she hears a roar and turns to see a giant bear rampaging through what is left of the Orc ranks.

The creature - Beorn, she supposes - makes straight for the now-ragged group of Orcs surrounding Thorin, who flee at his next roar. He drops to one knee and Tauriel sees four Dwarves, whose faces she does not recognize, lift Thorin and settle him on the bear’s back. Beorn rises again and makes for the Mountain, two conscious Dwarves astride him as well to hold Thorin in place.

“Come with me,” Oin calls, and turns towards the Mountain. Tauriel spares a look at Legolas but he is already running after the Dwarf. Tauriel is at his heels in another moment, and Oin waves them on as they pass him.

Tauriel sees Beorn curled up before the Front Gate and throws herself past him, into the first chamber, which has been overtaken as a makeshift infirmary. A handful of unfamiliar Dwarves are grouped around Thorin, and the princes are laid out a few feet away.

She runs and drops next to Kili, who is somehow conscious enough to wink at her. “Bring water and clean rags!” she calls out to no one in particular, but they appear next to her almost instantly. She wets a rag, wrings it out, and presses it to the most visible wound in Kili’s flank. Next to her, Legolas is pulling aside Fili’s shirt to get at a long, deep gash in his arm. “I had claimed the head of that Orc for myself,” she hears Legolas say as he presses a cloth to the wound.

“I think it’s still out there somewhere, if you really want it,” Fili gasps in reply, and Legolas, miracle of miracles, grins at him. Kili catches Tauriel’s eye for a moment before closing it against the pain as she binds a dry bandage around his leg.


	22. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin has always imagined that killing Azog would be his final act, that it would take a full lifetime of ruling wisely and well before Mahal granted him the privilege of taking the Defiler’s head from his shoulders. Instead, as he is painfully aware, he is alive, and as Oin’s face swims into focus before his eyes, he begins to suspect that he will continue to live for a while longer.

Thorin has always imagined that killing Azog would be his final act, that it would take a full lifetime of ruling wisely and well before Mahal granted him the privilege of taking the Defiler’s head from his shoulders. Instead, as he is painfully aware, he is alive, and as Oin’s face swims into focus before his eyes, he begins to suspect that he will continue to live for a while longer.

“Hush now, laddie,” says Balin’s voice from his left. “You’re safe now, we’ve got you,” and then Thorin realizes that he has been groaning for as long as he has been conscious.

Oin’s mouth moves, but Thorin can make out only a few of the words he says. “Pack the... tighter,” he hears, and “...water... going to leave a nasty scar...” Thorin is content to let the words wash over him until he hears, “Kili... poison...” and then he starts thrashing. “Careful, now!” Oin shouts, grabbing his shoulders and forcing them down.

“Help him!” Thorin cries, but it isn’t loud enough. He tries again. “Help Kili! Leave me!”

“Quiet!” Oin orders again. “Hold him down.” Balin’s firm hands grip his shoulders tightly, and Oin grabs a bowl from beside him and puts it to Thorin’s lips. “Drink, Thorin,” he says, tipping the liquid inside into Thorin’s mouth.

Thorin tries to shout again, but opening his mouth lets the liquid in and he sputters and has to swallow. From somewhere to his right he hears an unfamiliar female voice say, “No, Kili, stay here,” and then a grunt of pain that is entirely too familiar.

“Kili!” Thorin screams, but it comes out as a slurred murmur, and then he is not in Erebor at all, he is in the woods outside the Misty Mountains and rain is beating down upon him, and he screams at the body in his arms. _Frerin, Frerin! Stay here, stay with me, don’t go! Frerin!_

And then the rain pours into his eyes and his mouth, and the world goes black.

Thorin comes back to himself with a start. He does not remember the dirt and mud where he fell being quite so comfortable, and he cannot feel the weight of his brother in his arms at all. He blinks his eyes open and then remembers that Azanulbizar is over, it has been over for nearly a century, and he buried his brother long ago.

He is in the Sleeping Chamber, but not on the floor; a mattress has been brought in and placed under him, and as he turns his head he sees more scattered around him. The two in the farthest corner are occupied, and then the rest of his memory comes flooding back and he sits up.

Pain slices through his body and he cannot entirely bite back the grunt that escapes him, but he manages to get his feet onto the floor before Bofur, sitting unnoticed at his bedside, gets ahold of the back of his shirt. “Easy there! Now just where do you think you’re going?”

“Kili,” Thorin says, before he remembers there are other words he could use. “He was poisoned again -”

“Ah,” Bofur says, hand still clenched in the cloth of Thorin’s bedshirt. “I win the pool then, I said that’s what all the fuss was about. Nori said you were hallucinating from the fever, and Gloin bet on a knock on the head.”

“What are you talking about?” Thorin roars, and Bofur slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Shush, now, don’t wake the lads.” Thorin looks over to the other two full beds and sees both bodies stirring. “Kili’s fine, they’re both fine. Nobody’s been poisoned, not this time.”

“But Oin said -”

“Oin said Kili wasn’t poisoned this time, and not to worry him with insignificant wounds when you were bleeding out all over Erebor. He was making a joke, Thorin, Kili laughed. Even Fili laughed. No one’s poisoned. You came the closest to dying of any of us, actually. Now lie down.”

Thorin looks over at Fili and Kili again, and allows Bofur to shove him back down onto his pillows. Now that the panic has passed, he can feel in exquisite detail exactly where each Orc spearhead entered his body.

“I promised Oin I’d fetch him when you woke up,” Bofur says. “Can I go do that, or do I need to sit on you to keep you in bed?”

“I’ll stay,” Thorin says. “And you have to split your winnings with Nori, I did start hallucinating.”

Bofur swears good-naturedly and makes for the kitchen. The sounds of his feet fade and Thorin can hear nothing but the sounds of the others breathing in the corner, evidently having settled back into sleep. Thorin begins to toy with the idea of drifting off again himself, but then Oin turns the corner into the Chamber, carrying what looks like a full mug of water.

“Good morning, Thorin,” Oin says, kneeling to reach a bag tucked under the edge of the mattress, and extracting several battered-looking herbs from it. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed multiple times with a blunt spearhead,” Thorin answers.

“Five spearheads, to be precise,” Oin says, crumbling a few leaves into the water and stirring it with an herb stalk. “Achieving various depths into your flesh. Plus a handful of sword scrapes and some gorgeous bruises. Here, drink this. For the pain.” He holds the mug to Thorin’s mouth and he drinks deep, feeling the effects almost immediately. “I hear Bofur and Nori get to split the betting pool,” he goes on conversationally. “Sorry for the confusion about Kili, I didn’t realize you were conscious enough to hear me. Where did you go after that, if I may ask?”

Thorin is quiet for a moment, and then says, “Azanulbizar. At the end. I was - Frerin was there,” he finishes quietly. Oin frowns at him but says nothing, unwrapping a bandage from around Thorin’s foot in silence. “How is everyone else?”

“Not bad, all things considering. The three of you got the worst of it, everyone else is on their own two feet. Dain lost a decent chunk of his soldiers, but not as many as he could have, given their numbers. We were lucky.” Oin finishes pulling the bandage off and begins smearing something soft and cold onto a wound that Thorin does not remember getting. “Oh, by the way, Bilbo’s asked for a heads-up if you start moving, so that he can leave before he’s thrown out.” Oin raises his eyebrows at Thorin, who sighs.

“Send him in when you’re finished. I owe him an apology, if he’ll hear it.”

“He will.” Oin tucks the edge of a fresh bandage under itself and grabs another from the bag. “Can you move at all? You’ve been out for a solid day and a half, I want to change everything if I can.”

Thorin submits to Oin’s poking, prodding, and one brief session of restitching up the worse wound, in the back of his left shoulder. “There we are,” he says finally, and Thorin sinks down again in relief. “That should hold you for a while, assuming you don’t jerk around and pop your stitches again.”

“I won’t.” Thorin watches Oin back up the bag again and store it under the edge of the mattress. “Thank you.”

Oin just says, “Hush. I’ll send Bilbo in two hours, let you get some sleep.” He moves over to the other two occupied mattresses and pulls bags out from the corners of each, and then Thorin’s eyes close and he slips into sleep.

He wakes suddenly to find Bilbo sitting in Bofur’s vacated chair and poking him in the shoulder. “Sorry,” the Halfling says when Thorin blinks. “Oin told me to wake you up, said it was important. Head wounds or something.”

“That’s alright,” Thorin says. He works a hand behind him and shoves his pillows around until he is nearly in an upright position. He settles back, and there is an awkward silence. “Are you injured?” Thorin asks finally.

“No, not really,” Bilbo says. “I took a rock to the head, actually. Missed most of the fighting. Oin says I’m fine, though, no lasting damage.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” They lapse into another awkward silence, this one lasting several minutes. Thorin can see Fili and Kili sitting up, mattresses pushed together and heads bent close. “I owe you an apology,” Thorin says finally, turning to look at Bilbo. “No, let me finish,” he says, holding up a hand as Bilbo opens his mouth. “I’ve treated you abominably, when you’ve most likely saved my life by removing the Arkenstone from Erebor. You did not deserve the abuse I heaped on you, and I apologize.”

“Well,” Bilbo says, fussing with the edge of his vest. “I don’t know about all that. But thank you,” he adds, catching Thorin’s eye and smiling. “I’m glad my flagrant disobedience and theft ended well.”

“That they did,” Thorin says, and neither of them can keep from smiling.

“Are you hungry?” Bilbo asks, and Thorin suddenly realizes that he is, in fact, hungrier than he can ever remember being. As hungry as he is, however, he is so nauseous that the thought of eating makes him break out in a sweat.

“Not terribly,” he says, deciding that lying is simpler than explaining. “There’s something I need to do first, anyway. Is the whole Company in Erebor?”

Bilbo thinks for a moment, then nods. “They’re either on the doorstep or in the treasure hoard. Gloin’s put everyone that’s able to work sorting and counting what they can.”

“Would you do me a favor, then?” Bilbo nods again, and Thorin says, “Will you ask everyone to gather in the Gallery of the Kings? I have something I must say.”

“I’m not so sure you should be moving - oh, there you go anyway,” Bilbo says as Thorin pushes himself up and places his feet on the floor. “Don’t you need help getting there?”

“We’ll get it,” comes Fili’s voice from across the Sleeping Chamber. He is up out of bed, and helping Kili to his feet as well. “You go, Bilbo, we’ll get Thorin.” Bilbo bobs uncertainly for a moment and then scurries off.

Thorin manages to get himself into a standing position before Fili and Kili reach him. Each loops an arm around his own shoulders and together the three of them shuffle off for the Gallery. “What a sight we must be,” Thorin mutters as they round the corner and cross the still-lumpy golden floor. Kili’s warm laughter comes from his right; on his left, Fili manages a smile.

By the time they’ve settled Thorin into a seated position on the edge of the pedestal where the statue of Thror used to be, Bilbo has returned with the rest of the Company. Fili and Kili fall back, and the Company groups around Thorin. He looks at them all, battered and tired and every one of them looking slightly afraid of him, and his resolution stiffens.

“My Company,” he begins. “Forgive me for not standing, but I felt this should happen as soon as possible, and I am not yet well enough to stand on my own for long enough.” He pauses as the Dwarves around him shake their heads and murmur that it doesn’t matter. He goes on, “When we set out on this journey, I promised you that I would do all that I could to get us safely into Erebor, our homeland. It is only the fact that I am speaking to you from inside the Kingdom Under the Mountain that keeps me from saying I have failed you entirely. As it is, I have failed you entirely too much.”

“Thorin -” Dwalin says from the back of the group, but Thorin holds up a hand and he quiets.

“I have failed you,” he repeats. “I lost sight of what was important, and I very nearly led you all to your deaths for the sake of gold and jewels. Every wound you bear is on my hands, and every death of our kinsmen. I can no longer consider myself worthy of being the head of our Company, let alone the ruler of Erebor. Let it be known that if you wish it, I will abdicate my right to the throne. I put the decision entirely in your hands.”

He stops speaking, and a ringing silence falls around the small group. The Dwarves in front of him shuffle and look at each other, until finally Fili speaks. “That’s all well and good, Uncle, but once again you embrace the grand gesture and fail to think about the details.”

“What, precisely, does that mean?” Thorin asks, slightly put off by Fili’s tone.

“It means, Thorin, that if you abdicate, I am the next in line to be king. Now,” he says, spreading his hands and looking at the Company, “I think I will be ready to rule one day, but certainly not tomorrow. I would be forced to abdicate as well, for the good of the people, and Kili would be next. Kili, do you want to be king?”

A stream of Khuzdul curses comes out of Kili’s mouth that can only have originated with Nori; indeed, Thorin sees, the thief is grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, I suppose that answers that,” Fili says when Kili abates. “Who’s next, then?”

“Dain,” Balin says, frowning. “That’ll never do. He’s handy with an army and all, but him in charge of both Erebor and the Iron Hills?” He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so, and he wouldn’t be too thrilled about the idea either.”

“So Dain’s out,” Fili says, nodding. “The list goes on, and the further it goes, the higher the chances of a war over the issue. So you see, Uncle, you cannot abdicate. There’s no one to take your place.”

Thorin is fighting a fierce smile by the time Fili is finished. “Are you all agreed in this?” he asks, in the most solemn voice he can muster.

Everyone nods then, and Thorin allows the smile to spread. “Then I shall not abdicate. I thank you all for your faith in me, and will do my best to -”

“Yes, yes, that’s all lovely,” Oin interrupts, pushing forward. “Now up you get, and back into bed before you start bleeding everywhere again. We just got the stains out of the floor from when Beorn brought you in. Bofur, give us a hand. And back in bed for you two as well,” he adds, pointing at Fili and Kili as he tucks his other hand under Thorin’s right elbow and hauls him up. “I’ll have Bombur bring you all some food, but you have to rest. Come on now.” Bofur tucks himself carefully into Thorin’s right side, and the two of them begin half-carrying him back into the Sleeping Chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we hit the canon divergence, at long last. There are three chapters and an epilogue left; I'm planning to have the story complete and fully posted before the third movie comes out.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


	23. Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As Mithrandir has been so diligent in pointing out, this shell of a Silmaril cannot remain here. A messenger is needed to carry it to Elrond, who has already agreed to ensure its safe departure from Middle-Earth. I thought you might recommend someone for this task.”
> 
> Tauriel can see the smile playing across her king’s mouth as he asks, and she knows he anticipates her answer. She inclines her head, and says, “I can name one now, my lord.”

“-under any circumstances,” Tauriel hears Mithrandir hiss as she approaches the entrance to her king’s tent. “It cannot remain in Middle-Earth a moment longer than absolutely necessary, Thranduil.”

“Then why not - ah, Tauriel,” Thranduil cuts himself off as he notices her. “Do come in. Why not take it yourself, then?” he finishes, turning back to Mithrandir, who is seated on a polished stool in the opposite corner. Between them, on a bundle of cloth atop a small table, gleams the Arkenstone. “If it is so vital, why not bear it yourself?”

“I am not a messenger boy,” the Wizard snaps. “There are important things to be done, Thranduil, things only I can do. Anyone can bear this to Elrond.”

Thranduil frowns but does not press the issue. Tauriel takes the opportunity to bow her head and say, “You summoned me, my lord?”

“Yes, I did,” Thranduil says. “As Mithrandir has been so diligent in pointing out, this shell of a Silmaril cannot remain here. A messenger is needed to carry it to Elrond, who has already agreed to ensure its safe departure from Middle-Earth. I thought you might recommend someone for this task.”

Tauriel can see the smile playing across her king’s mouth as he asks, and she knows he anticipates her answer. She inclines her head, and says, “I can name one now, my lord.”

“And who might that be?”

“Myself, my lord.” She straightens and looks him in the eye. “I will bear the Arkenstone to Lord Elrond.”

Thranduil lets his smile out fully then, and nods. “I had hoped you would be the one to take it, although I must confess that you will be missed.” He rises and steps closer to her until he can rest a hand comfortably on her shoulder. “Make what preparations you need. You will leave in the morning, with a full escort of your choosing.” Tauriel bows again and leaves the tent.

It is the work of a few brief hours to settle her escort, five of her most trusted Guards whom she knows to be discreet and skilled in both fighting and moving undetected. She has sent the last off, with instructions to pack provisions, when Legolas arrives at her tent.

“You are leaving, I hear,” he says, not bothering to sit down.

“You hear correctly.” Tauriel rises and stretches; she can sit completely still for close to a day without needing to move, but that does not mean it is comfortable. “If all goes well, I shall return in a few months.”

“If all goes well,” he echoes. “Who have you chosen for your escort?” She tells him. “I would volunteer myself to go with you, but I think you would not accept, and Father would never allow it besides. If I cannot be with you, I am glad you have chosen the escort you have. They will keep you safe.”

“That was my thinking, at least.” Tauriel turns to gather up the maps she has collected, and wraps them in a leaf to keep off water on her journey. “I am sorry I did not tell you myself,” she says, turning back to Legolas. “I meant to, but I had no time. The decision was made only a few hours ago.”

Legolas is quiet for a moment, then says, “I take it you have not told your Dwarf, then, either. Kili,” he corrects, when she opens her mouth to object. “Does he know?”

“No,” Tauriel says, shorter than she means to be. “He does not. I do not think I will have the time to tell him, either. Preparations will take up most of the day, and I’m sure your father will want to have a word before I go, as well.”

Legolas just looks at her, and then says, “I will look over the gathering of provisions and what else I can. Return in time to pack your personal belongings, of course, but everything else I can handle. Speak to him; I know you will not feel easy until you do.”

His face is uncomfortable, Tauriel can tell, but she knows he is genuine nonetheless. “Thank you, my friend,” she says, and he smiles and moves aside to let her out.

Tauriel finds Kili at the hidden entrance to the Mountain, which she has heard called the Back Door by him and other Dwarves. He is with his brother, as she anticipated, but they seem to be alone otherwise, moving their hands in the air to shape walls and a gate. It takes a few minutes for him to notice her, but when he does he says a few words to Fili and makes his way down the Mountainside. “Hello!” he says, breathless, when he finally reaches the bottom. “What brings you here?”

“I wished to speak with you about something,” she says, and gestures back the way she had come. “Would you walk with me a moment?”

“Of course.” His face is less joyful now, his smile all but gone. Tauriel misses it. “What did you want to talk about?”

They begin to walk, each step coming slower than Tauriel has ever moved before. “The Arkenstone cannot stay in Middle-Earth,” she begins.

“So I’ve heard,” Kili says, smiling again. “Gandalf’s words on the subject have echoed even into the mountain. It seems your king will not follow through on his threat.”

Tauriel hesitates, then says, “I do not think the threat was genuine. Gandalf would never have allowed it, at any rate.” There is another period of silence, another small step forward, and then she says, “I have volunteered to bear the Stone to Lord Elrond in Rivendell.”

The silence is ringing now, and Tauriel cannot bear to look down at Kili, so it comes as a surprise when he speaks. “I can think of no one with whom the Arkenstone would be safer. And I cannot say I will be sad to see it go. Although,” he adds, “I will be sorry to see you go.”

“It shall not be as long a journey as yours, I think,” Tauriel says. “It will be swifter for six Elves to travel than it was for thirteen Dwarves.”

“And a burglar.” Tauriel looks down to see that his smile has partially returned. He catches her eye. “I am glad for you,” he says, and she believes him. “The world is a beautiful place. You’ll love it.”

His smile is encouraging, and finally she allows her excitement to rise above the layers of solemnity under which she has hidden it. “I have never looked forward to anything in my life more than I look forward to seeing the world west of our kingdom, even on such a brief journey.”

Kili grins at her fully now, catching her excitement and making her smile back. “You must tell me your favorite parts, when you return. I’ll expect a full report.”

“Of course,” she agrees. They take a few more steps in silence before she looks sidelong at him; his grin has reduced, turning into a wistful smile. It gives her courage. “If I were not an Elf,” she says suddenly, making him start and look at her. “If I were a Dwarf-maiden, leaving to go on a long trip, what would you do?”

The question clearly throws him, but he recovers himself quickly. “If you were a Dwarf-maid,” he says, quietly, “I would give you a Gift.”

She can hear the capital letter in his speech, giving the word a significance beyond what she would expect. “What sort of Gift?”

“Something small, and personal. To me, that is,” he explains. “A First Gift has little to do with the person receiving it, and much to do with the giver.” He does not offer an explanation of what he would offer, and she does not pry.

“And if I accepted, we would be engaged?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “If you accepted, the Gift would serve as a reminder that you are loved, nothing more. To become engaged, you would offer me a Gift, and I would accept it.”

His voice is still low, and Tauriel has the suspicion that she is the first non-Dwarf to hear of Dwarvish courtship rituals in a long while. “And after that?”

He looks at her for so long that she begins to wonder if he will answer at all, and then he does. “We would give each other two more Gifts. Once we have both given three and accepted three, the engagement would end and the marriage would begin.”

Tauriel considers this for a moment. “It seems an uncomplicated and equitable process,” she says finally, and Kili nods. “Would there be a celebration?”

“If we wished it,” Kili says. “If we wished, there would be a public declaration and a party with both of our families, the likes of which neither you nor I have ever seen.”

Tauriel laughs, then, loud after the quiet of his words, and he joins her. They have given up all pretense of walking, and are standing in the last bit of shade from the Mountain before passing into the open desert. Tauriel can see people, Men and Elves alike, watching the two of them, and as she laughs she sees a few Dwarves peeking from the Mountainside as well.

Their laughter quiets again. “That sounds wonderful,” Tauriel admits, still looking up. “It is a shame, then, that I am not a Dwarf-maid.”

She does not mean to say it aloud, but she does, quiet and regretful. Kili drops his head for a moment, and then looks up. “It is a shame,” he agrees. There is, even now, a small smile on his lips, as regretful as her words. “But you are not. And we have always known that.”

She bends then, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Aulë keep you,” she whispers into his hair, and then straightens and makes her way back into the camp. She does not look back until she is several tents deep into the settlement, and by then he has turned as well, making his way back to the Mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are nectar and ambrosia.


	24. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin does not hear of Tauriel’s departure until three days after she goes. Even then he would not know of it had Balin not taken pity on him, after the third dinner with Kili quieter than usual and Thorin trying every way he could think of to find out why, short of asking outright.

Thorin does not hear of Tauriel’s departure until three days after she goes. Even then he would not know of it had Balin not taken pity on him, after the third dinner with Kili quieter than usual and Thorin trying every way he could think of to find out why, short of asking outright.

“And why not ask outright, laddie?” Balin asks, after Thorin mentions his reluctance. “He’s not angry with you anymore, and to be honest I don’t think he ever really was. Just shocked, but that’s passed now.”

“He just... I...” Thorin struggles for the words for a moment before they come. “I have no right to ask about his life. If he wanted me to know he’d have told me. He doesn’t need me beating the door down to get back in his good graces.”

Balin just looks at him, and Thorin feels no more than forty again, caught with his hand on the emergency water provisions. “Stop punishing yourself,” Balin says. “You’re doing it, not Kili. Now suck it up and tell him you’re sorry his heart’s been broken, go on.” He gives Thorin a light shove when he doesn’t move.Thorin considers pretending he’s hit a still-healing wound, but Balin knows where they all are, and anyway Thorin likes to think he isn’t quite that pathetic. He just frowns at Balin instead and leaves.

Fili and Kili have been spending time at the Back Door, discussing possible defenses, and he finds them there again, standing back and looking at the secret entrance.

“-beginning to think Ori’s got the right idea, and we should just keep it camouflaged,” he hears Fili say as he pads down the hallway.

“There are pros and cons to both sides - oh, hello,” Kili breaks off awkwardly as Thorin emerges from the shadowy hallway. “What brings you out here?”

“I was wondering if I might have a word, actually,” Thorin says, stepping out into the setting sunlight.

“Of course,” Kili says after a beat. “Fili, would you give us a minute?”

Fili looks like he would rather not, but Kili frowns at him and he says, “Sure. I promised Gloin I’d give him a hand with some calculations anyway, better sooner than later.” He nods to Thorin as he leaves.

“Do you want to sit down?” Kili says, gesturing to the edge of the cliff. “It’s perfectly safe, we carved out a footrest, and you look like you’re about to pass out.”

It’s more true than Thorin would like to admit, and he allows Kili to lead him over and help him get settled. The ledge of the footrest is wide and strong, and he doesn’t want to think about how they managed to carve it out. Kili swings down next to him, and they sit in a silence that’s rather companionable, all things considered.

Eventually Thorin breaks it. “Balin told me about the - about Tauriel. I’m sorry.”

Kili looks down, scuffing the footrest with one booted toe. “I was wondering if you were going to ask about that. It’s alright that you didn’t, I don’t mind,” he adds before Thorin can interrupt. “I know you didn’t approve of our being friends.”

“It’s not that,” Thorin says. “That is, I didn’t, but it hasn’t mattered for a while now. I am sorry that she left, and that it hurts you.”

“I think you’d like her,” Kili says, looking out at the desert below them. “She’s as idealistic as you are, if better at planning.” Thorin glances at him sidelong and he’s grinning again, and Thorin can’t keep in a small chuckle.

Thorin waits until the echoes of their speech die down before he admits, “I don’t have the slightest idea how to talk to you anymore.”

“‘Anymore’ implies that you ever did,” Kili says without missing a beat, and laughs. Thorin loves him fiercely for a sharp moment, and then begins to laugh as well. “I think it might be better if we started over anyway.” He holds out an arm. “Hello, I’m Kili, a few months ago you asked me to join you on a massive and dangerous quest, how are you?”

Thorin grins back, taking the grasping the proffered forearm. “I can honestly say I’ve never been better.”

Kili holds his grip for a moment longer and then lets go. “Now that we’re properly acquainted, can I make a suggestion?” Thorin waves a hand, and he goes on, “You should start Fili in proper kingship lessons soon, or he’s going to run away and become an accountant. Gloin’s already drawing up apprenticeship plans.”

“Mahal save us,” Thorin mutters, making Kili laugh again. “I’ll never hear the end of it from your mother. Speaking of Dis, have you sent for her?”

“Fili and I have been waiting for word from you, actually, whether it’s alright to start calling people back home.” Thorin cannot keep a stupid grin from his face at Kili calling Erebor home, and turns his face down to hide it. “Erebor not exactly being in top shape, and all.”

“Perhaps not the masses, no,” Thorin agrees. “But you should summon your mother, definitely. Unless you want to return to the Blue Mountains, that is,” he adds, trying to sound lighthearted. He thinks he fails, but he can’t be sure.

“I don’t,” Kili says quickly, “and I couldn’t leave Fili anyway. Gandalf’s leaving in the morning, I’ll ask him to take a letter along. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m not sure we’ll be able to delay the coronation until she gets here, Dain and his people are chomping at the bit to get an official King Under the Mountain again, but she should be here. I’d like to see her home again.”

Kili is silent for a moment, and when Thorin looks over, Kili is staring at him. He breaks eye contact after a moment and begins levering himself up. “Come on, up you get,” he says, extending a hand. “Oin’s threatened all of us if we let you stay out for too long, and I like my nose the way it is, thanks.”

Thorin accepts the hand and Kili pulls him to his feet and back onto the edge of the cliff. “I am sorry,” Thorin says again before letting go.

“It’s alright, really it is,” Kili says, letting his hand drop to his side. “Nothing was ever - it’s fine,” he repeats, and then turns towards the Back Door. “Shall we?”

Thorin leads the way inside. They make it through to the Sleeping Chamber before Thorin remembers the conversation he interrupted and calls out, “By the way, I agree with Ori. Hide the door, we may need it again.”

“We’ll take it under advisement,” Kili calls back, already halfway into the kitchen, which Gloin has commandeered for an office every evening that week.

Thorin finds Balin at the West Gate, overseeing a team of Dain’s fighters who are trying to excavate the cave-in caused by Smaug. “Sit down before you fall down,” Balin says, and mutters something to the Dwarf beside him, who seems to be leading the contingent from the Iron Hills, before joining Thorin on a boulder in the corner. “Did you speak to Kili?”

“Yes I did, and it went fine, you were right,” Thorin says, ignoring the smirk that appears on Balin’s face. “But we need to talk about the coronation.”

“Not going to wait for Dis, then?”

“I don’t think I can. Kili’s sending for her, but Dain’s reluctant enough to stay without the Arkenstone. If we put off my crowning any longer I’m afraid he’ll withdraw his support.”

“Fair enough,” Balin says. “I’ll have a word with Gloin, see if there’s any trace of your grandfather’s crown. If not, Bofur can make a new one, I spoke with him yesterday about it. We can crown you in a fortnight, if you don’t mind Erebor being in this state when we do it.”

“I don’t love my kingdom for its majesty, Balin. Maybe once, but not anymore. A fortnight will be fine. I should be back on my feet by then, or near enough.”

“Aye, if you don’t keep overdoing it and injuring yourself,” Balin says. “Hobble off to bed now, leave the heavy work for those of us who can handle it.”

“Kili fought in a battle after he almost died, I can manage to walk up and down my own kingdom,” Thorin grumbles, standing up.

“Kili had Elvish medicine, and no other choice. Neither of those are true for you,” Balin says. “Now get on, laddie. Get back and rest.”

Thorin goes, and rests, and submits to an examination by Oin, who confirms that yes, he should be sturdy enough for a coronation in two weeks’ time. Thorin thanks him and manages to flag down Fili, leaving the kitchen, to talk about kingship lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're winding down! Monday I'll post the final chapter and the epilogue, and then Tuesday it's off to the movie theater for the midnight destruction of my soul. Thanks for sticking around with me, and reading and commenting!


	25. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’ll be fine,” Kili says, hanging the rag back up. “And, Mahal willing, Fili will have many years to learn to be on time before he has to take the throne.”
> 
> “Aye.” Bofur leans back on the counter next to the covered crown and looks at him. “Glad to see you and Thorin back on the same page.”
> 
> Were he speaking to anyone else, Kili would try to brush off the comment. Instead, he just drops his eyes a little and says, “Glad to be back on it as well.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kili says over Fili’s whistle, after Bofur whips the cover off the newly-completed crown. “Well done, Bofur, really.”

“Team effort,” Bofur says, passing it into Fili’s curious hands. “Ori for the design, Gloin for the jewels, me and Dwalin for the manual labor. But it’s done now, and just in time.”

“That’s never mithril?” Fili asks, peering at the small white band at the base of the crown.

“Bifur found some at the bottom of a pile in the hoard. Don’t know how Smaug managed to get hold of it, but we figured it’d represent a firm base for the new ruler.” Bofur takes the crown back and puts it on its cushion, covered with a dirty rag to discourage any wandering hands. Dain’s people in particular have been anxious to see the crown, but Thorin ordered it secret from all but the princes and those who worked on it, until the coronation itself.

“Have you showed Thorin yet?” Kili asks, picking up another rag to scrub ash off the nearest anvil while Bofur finishes stowing his tools.

“He started to cry a little, said it was the most beautiful craftsmanship he’d ever seen,” Bofur confirms. Fili slips two gold coins into Kili’s hand behind his back, rolling his eyes at his brother’s triumphant expression. “Oh, that reminds me, aren’t you meant to be at the rehearsal, Fili? Aren’t you standing up with Thorin?”

Fili swears and darts off towards the upper levels. The Sleeping Chamber has been emptied of mattresses and belongings, it being the largest area deemed safe for so many Dwarves, and after the coronation the Company will start splitting up into their own rooms. Kili hasn’t decided if he’ll miss sleeping in an open space with everyone, or relish the opportunity to have his own space. “Good start to his heirdom,” Bofur says, laughing as he puts his last hammer away.

“He’ll be fine,” Kili says, hanging the rag back up. “And, Mahal willing, Fili will have many years to learn to be on time before he has to take the throne.”

“Aye.” Bofur leans back on the counter next to the covered crown and looks at him. “Glad to see you and Thorin back on the same page.”

Were he speaking to anyone else, Kili would try to brush off the comment. Instead, he just drops his eyes a little and says, “Glad to be back on it as well.”

“Any idea what you’re going to do?”

“About what?”

“Don’t play coy with me, lad.” Bofur tilts his head and keeps looking at Kili.

“See if I ever tell you anything again,” Kili says, without any real venom. He had told Bofur of Thorin’s disastrous First Gift in the days when he was still mostly bedridden after the battle. It had made it seem smaller in his own mind, for which he was grateful, and Bofur has always been a good listener.

Bofur accepts the rebuke anyway. “Sorry, lad. None of my business, I know.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t completely decided yet,” Kili responds, and then coughs. “Come on, let’s go up, before the soot down here gets into our brains.”

Bofur follows him up, and they find a crowd of Dwarves, of the Company and the Iron Hills both, gathered in the kitchen and eavesdropping on the rehearsal. As they approach, Kili can hear Balin’s deep voice speaking the words of the ritual as he will say them the next day, with the crown in his hands, before placing it on Thorin’s head. Kili gets a chill down his spine thinking about it.

The rehearsal is over in an hour, and Fili slides in next to Kili at the dinner table. He tears apart a bread roll and eats as though he has never eaten before.

“Standing in one place got you hungry, does it?” says Bofur from across the table.

“I could smell dinner the entire time,” Fili says, shaking his head and helping himself to stew from the pot in the center of the table. “I wasn’t doing anything, just standing there like a statue, but Balin wouldn’t let me leave.”

“That’s what happens when you’re late,” Balin says directly behind his head, making Fili jump and send his elbow into Kili’s side. It lands directly on one of the two bruises still healing and Kili winces. Thorin, at the head of the table, catches his eye and mouths, “Are you alright?” Kili nods and goes back to his food.

It’s too much to hope for that Fili won’t notice anything; even distracted by impending official heirdom, his brother sees enough to steer them out to the Back Door after dinner without anyone else noticing. “Did I get you in a bruise?” Fili asks, as soon as they are under open air.

“It’s alright. Only hurt for a moment,” Kili says, relieved that he can finally say it without lying. His leg still twinges occasionally, and he is beginning to think it always will, but aside from that his other injuries are nearly healed.

Fili regards him for a moment, then nods, satisfied that he isn’t lying. “Good. I’m still sorry, but good.” Fili sits down at the edge of the cliff, feet dangling onto the footrest. Kili joins him. “What are you going to do about Thorin?”

“Why does everyone care so much?” Kili mutters. At Fili’s raised eyebrow, he explains, “Bofur was asking me the same thing after you ran off.”

“We all care about you, that’s why,” Fili says, nudging Kili’s shoulder with his own. “Besides, Thorin is pathetically in love with you, and we can’t have our king being pathetic, now can we?”

The fact that Fili can say that at all makes Kili more certain than ever that the decision he is coming to is the right one; Fili wouldn’t tease him like this without being sure of what his brother wants, and he is right far more often than he is wrong. “No,” Kili says quietly, looking out. “We certainly can’t.”

Fili nudges him again, and it devolves into a brief shoving match that ends with both of them lying on their backs, legs still dangling over the edge, looking up at the quickly-darkening sky. “Mother’s going to kill him, you know,” Fili says after several long moments.

“Mmm. And you, and Balin,” Kili agrees. “Probably especially Balin. It’ll be all his fault, of course.”

“Naturally.” Fili laughs. “Do you know what it’s going to be yet?”

“I found something in the hoard the other day, when Gloin recruited me for sorting, remember? It should work.”

“I’m sure it will.” Fili pushes himself up and to his feet. Kili follows suit. “Let’s wait till everyone’s gone to bed and have a feast. If there was ever a night for one, it’s tonight.”

Feast they do, after Bifur finally nods off two hours after midnight. Fili manages to find a well-hidden cherry pie stashed in the back of the oven. They wash the pan when it’s gone, as a concession to Bombur, and then make it back to bed just before they both fall asleep.

Kili spends the better part of the morning alone, Fili having been hustled off by Nori, of all Dwarves, to get cleaned and dressed barely a minute after finishing breakfast. After Kili dodges Dwalin, looking for volunteers to make last-minute adjustments to the Sleeping Chamber, for the third time, he stiffens his resolve and makes his way down to the forges.

Thorin has chosen a spacious set of rooms near the forges for his personal chambers, in memory of the night they went against Smaug, over the traditional king’s rooms down in the depths of Erebor. Kili suspects that the old rooms are too close to the hoard for Thorin’s comfort, but he hasn’t cared to ask. Thorin has been so calm since the battle, more lighthearted than Kili can remember him being even at the start of their quest. To bring up his goldsickness now might push him back down, so none of the Company have dared broach the subject.

Kili allows himself two minutes to reflect on such matters before straightening his back and knocking. He has a moment of panic - _Thorin will be at the preparations, of course, he wouldn’t be in his rooms mere hours before his coronation_ \- before he hears the sound of footsteps and the door swings open. “Kili,” Thorin says, not bothering to hide his surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Kili has to fight down another wave of panic. “I - I wanted to speak with you about something. It can wait, of course -”

“Kili,” Thorin says softly, stopping him as he turns to go. “I merely meant that I thought you would be with your brother. Come in.” He steps back and lets Kili enter, closing the door behind them.

“Dori’s been decorating in here, I see,” Kili says, looking around the room. No one else would have been able to locate unharmed carpets, let alone drapes for the walls. “Where did he find the armchair?”

“He’s not said,” Thorin admits, walking over to it and running a finger along the armrest. “I think some of the Lake-Men may have rescued it from the ruins and Dori bartered for it. It’s rather grown on me. Very comfortable, although it does still smell of ash.”

Thorin leans against the back of the chair, and Kili notices for the first time how pale he is. “Are you nervous?”

“Of course,” Thorin says with a humorless chuckle. “I’m about to officially take responsibility for a kingdom that I have shown no ability to rule in the recent past.”

“You did a good job in the Blue Mountains. Even Mother would agree with that,” Kili says, stepping closer to the walls. The drapes look old, faded blue against even paler green, but he finds he likes them as they are. He takes a breath, pulls the ring from his pocket, and turns around. “I found this, several days ago,” he says. The ring face is wide and gold, plain but for a single runic F in the middle. “It was much too small for any but a child at first, but I resized it.” Thorin stands up and walks over, taking the ring and examining it. “I think it belonged to Frerin,” Kili says, quieter now.

“I think you’re right,” Thorin says. His voice is heavy as he turns the ring over. “I remember him wearing it in our youth, although I cannot recall where it came from.” He looks at the rune one last time and then offers it back to Kili. “A rare find. You should claim it as part of your share.”

“I did, actually, as soon as I found it,” Kili says. He takes gentle hold of Thorin’s wrist and pushes his hand back. “But I didn’t resize it for my hand.”

Thorin looks down at the ring and back up, and Kili can see a flicker of hope behind his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I offer this as a First Gift to you.” It is easier to say than Kili had anticipated. He expected to choke on the words as they left his mouth, stumble over his speech and make a fool of himself.

Instead they come out smooth and easy, and Thorin is saying, “I accept it as such,” barely a breath after Kili finishes speaking. Thorin puts the ring on his right index finger, and when it slides on perfectly Kili sends a blessing to Mahal.

When Kili looks up again Thorin is looking at him with such love in his eyes that Kili gets lost for a moment, and then Thorin blinks and says, “I don’t have anything for you, damn,” breaks away, and starts rifling through the chests at the foot of his bed.

It is such a profound contrast to the moment before that Kili has to laugh. “It’s alright,” he manages to say. “It doesn’t need to be now, I don’t mind -”

“Kili,” Thorin says, stopping his search and straightening up. “If you think I’m going to my coronation without being engaged to you first, you are sorely mistaken.”

Kili feels more helpless laughter bubbling up at that. He waves a hand and Thorin continues tearing his chambers apart.

“Damn, damn, oh, here,” he says finally, straightening up with a pair of fingerless gloves clutched in his hand. He walks back towards Kili, saying, “These are the gloves I wore from the Blue Mountains to Erebor. Bought them new for the trip, but they’ve seen a bit of wear, obviously.” It’s true; the gloves are battered, but they look broken-in and comfortable. “It’s not very good, as Gifts go, I’m afraid, but if we think of them as symbolic of the journey we’ve taken, in getting to know each other and getting to this point, it works a bit better, I think,” Thorin says.

He’s babbling but still grinning. Kili says, his voice slightly wry, “Even without the symbolism they’re better than your last try.”

Thorin laughs at that, full and loud. “Well, then. I offer these gloves -”

“Symbolic gloves.”

“Hush - these symbolic gloves as a First Gift to you.”

“I accept them as such,” Kili says, taking them from Thorin’s hands. He slides them on and they fit surprisingly well. They are as comfortable as they look. Kili’s own gloves were ruined with blood during the most recent battle, a fact of which he is sure Thorin is aware.

Kili looks up but Thorin is still looking at his hands. Thorin reaches out and takes them, runs a thumb over the edge of the right gloves’ fingers, at Kili’s knuckles. After another moment Thorin looks up and meets Kili’s eyes, still holding his hands. It is only when Kili leans forward and kisses him that Thorin releases them, one hand moving up Kili’s arm and the other reaching up to the back of his head.


	26. Epilogue - Dis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis is going to strangle someone. It will probably be Balin, seeing as he is the unfortunate Dwarf standing beside her just now, but at the moment she isn’t feeling particularly choosy. “Durin’s Death, Balin, how did this happen?”

Dis is going to strangle someone. It will probably be Balin, seeing as he is the unfortunate Dwarf standing beside her just now, but at the moment she isn’t feeling particularly choosy. “Durin’s Death, Balin, how did this happen?”

“Rather quietly, all things considered,” Balin says conversationally, as though unaware of the mortal peril he is in. “I didn’t know anything about it until a few days after we drove the Beast out of Erebor, and by that point Thorin was too far gone to talk him out of it.”

Dis keeps looking at the flat stone in front of her, propped incongruously in a corner, with Kili’s and Thorin’s names across the top; there is one item below Kili’s name, and two below Thorin’s. “What in Mahal’s Creation are symbolic gloves?”

“That, I don’t know,” Balin admits after a pause. “I’ve asked, but both of them just start laughing, and if Fili’s managed to get a straight answer out of Kili, he’s not sharing.” After another moment, Balin says, as if conceding a point, “Whatever they are, they can’t be worse than Thorin’s first attempt.”

“His first attempt,” Dis repeats, soft and horrified. “Fili’s letter said nothing about a first attempt.”

“Well, no, he wouldn’t have mentioned it, it was rather disastrous. Lucky for Thorin that Kili’s not a type to hold grudges.”

This statement does nothing to quell Dis’ worry, but she does not push, for fear of finding out more. “Alright,” she says instead. “I think I can manage now. Where are my sons?”

“Kili’s in a meeting with a delegation from Mirkwood,” Balin says, pointing at the stone; indeed, the second item under Thorin’s name is _Diplomatic relations with the Elves_. “Fili’s waiting for him, they were going to meet you at the Gate when you got in. But you were early,” he finishes.

“I was going to rest in Lake-Town a few hours, but I got Fili’s letter on the way in and decided not to.” Dis turns around and starts walking. “Come on then, show me where this meeting is taking place.”

Balin leads her to a small chamber that she remembers, with a pang, used to be one of the gardens, it being one of the few rooms with enough sunlight for things to grow. Sitting outside and fiddling with something that looks like Bifur made it is her eldest son. “Fili,” she calls softly, remembering all of a sudden how to pitch her voice in Erebor and have it go where she wants it.

His head shoots up and he grins, carefully placing the toy on the ground next to him before rising and rushing to her. “Mother!” he says, wrapping his arms around her. Dis feels a large knot in her heart begin to unravel, that has sat there ever since her boys had left her. “You’re early! We were going to meet you.”

“I couldn’t wait,” she says, squeezing him tightly before stepping back to look at him. “You look well,” she says, and it’s true. He looks strong, stronger than he was before he left, and happy.

“That’s down to Oin,” he says. “If you’d been here directly after the battle I’d have looked a sight worse than I do now. Kili’s almost done in there,” he says, gesturing to the closed door behind them. “The shouting all died down about an hour ago, so it’s got to be nearly done by now.”

“How did Kili wind up a diplomat?” Dis asks, letting her son lead her over to a bench in the hallway and sitting down.

“Sort of fell into it, really. He made friends with a higher-ranking Elf while we were prisoners in Mirkwood, and it sort of spiraled from there.” Fili sits next to her, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders. Balin has disappeared, probably off to warn Thorin that she’s arrived, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Fili is right; barely ten minutes have passed before the door swings open and several annoyed-looking Elves file out, muttering amongst themselves. Dori, Oin, and Dwalin follow, halting for a moment when they see Dis and bowing, before moving on. She smiles at them as they go.

Last out of the room are Kili and a red-headed Elf, deep in conversation. They make it a few paces out of the door before Kili sees Dis and interrupts himself. “Mother! You’re early!” He runs to her and she throws her arms around him. “It’s so wonderful to see you, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, my son,” Dis whispers. Kili pulls back and looks at the Elf, who is standing apart and tactfully looking away. “Tauriel, this is my mother. Mother,” he says, looking back at Dis, “This is my friend Tauriel, Guard-Captain of the Woodland Realm.”

Tauriel extends a hand, which Dis takes. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” Tauriel says. “Kili talks of you often.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Dis replies, and with a quiet farewell to Fili and Kili, Tauriel follows after the rest of the Elves. As soon as she’s out of sight, Kili hugs Dis again.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, taking her elbow and leading her back down the hall. “You must be hungry, I’m starving and I’ve barely moved all day. Fili, are you hungry?”

“You know me, brother,” Fili says, catching up and taking Dis’ other arm. “I’m always hungry.”

Dis is, in fact, famished now that she has arrived and found her family well, and as she eats her sons grill her for details of her journey. It was one of the more boring trips Dis has ever taken, escorted as she was by two dozen Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, but she gives them every detail and they seem satisfied.

“Now you must tell me about the Quest,” she says, as soon as the questions begin to slow. “Is the Halfling still around?”

“He left just before the coronation, with Gandalf,” Fili says, finishing off the last of the bread. “Said he had to get home and take care of his affairs. He’ll be back, though, to visit, he says. You can meet him then if you want.”

“I would like that, I think,” Dis says. She doesn’t say _I want to thank him for saving Thorin’s life_ , but she looks at Kili and can see that he, at least, understands.

No sooner has the thought passed through her mind than Thorin himself enters the large hall in which they are eating. He is, as she had expected, talking with Balin. Balin looks over and calls, “Fili! A word, if you don’t mind.”

Fili stands up and leaves, with a smile at Dis. _Bless you, Balin_ , she thinks, and turns to Kili. “Come for a walk with me,” she says. “I want to discuss something with you.”

Kili grins. “I was wondering when this was going to happen.” They stand and he begins leading her out another door and through a hallway. “You were faster about it than I expected, I owe Fili a new pair of boots. Let’s go to the Back Door.”

The walk takes about ten minutes, the two of them going slowly as Kili points out the work being done at various places in the Mountain. Dis has never before considered herself lucky to have little memory of Erebor, but she cannot imagine what Balin and Thorin, and the others who remember, must be going through.

Finally they make it through to the open air. “So this is the secret entrance to the Mountain,” Dis muses, walking out and looking around. “I must have come through here on my way out, the last time, but I don’t remember it at all.”

“This is it,” Kili says. He sits on an outcropping that has been shaped and smoothed into a seat, and pats the space beside him. “Let’s get this over with, Mother, it’s not going to be fun for either of us.” He’s smiling, though, which makes Dis smile too.

She sits down, and after a moment’s hesitation says, “I just need to know that this is what you want.”

“Really?” Kili asks, surprised. “I thought we’d start with the shouting, and how I could do much better, and don’t I know he hates you? Which he doesn’t, by the way, we’ve talked about it.”

“I know he doesn’t.” Dis looks over at her son. “And I’m the last to try and stand between you and the person you love, you should know that.” The memories of her fights with Thorin and Thrain when she became engaged to her husband still ring clearly in her mind, and she can see in Kili’s eyes that he remembers the story, from the single time he managed to pry it out of Balin. “I just want to be sure that it’s really what you want, that you don’t feel pressured or without choice because he’s the king -”

“Durin’s Death, no,” Kili says, shaking his head. “It’s not like that at all. He would have left it after the first try, and never said anything again if I hadn’t brought it up. And king or no, it’s rather difficult to be frightened of him after a cross-country journey in close quarters. He’s not that intimidating, actually.”

“Good,” Dis says. She hadn’t truly thought that Kili was bowing to royal pressure, but she needed to be sure. “And this first try,” she adds, hesitant. “Do I want to know?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head again and grinning. “No, you do not. It was awful.” His face falls back into seriousness after a moment. “But I can’t wish it never happened. It’s what got me thinking about it, about everything. I was disappointed, but it took a bit of thinking to figure out it was for different reasons than I thought.” He smiles again, smaller this time, and looks at Dis. “I’m happy, Mother. Truly I am.”

Dis can feel tears welling in her eyes, and pulls her son into a hug so she can dash them away without him noticing. “Then I’m happy for you,” she says. She holds on longer than she needs to in order to wipe her eyes, but Kili seems content to let her.

Eventually she releases him and they make their way back inside. Fili, apparently released by Balin, is waiting for them at the table still, but as soon as Dis steps inside the hall Thorin catches her eye. She waves Kili back over to his brother and goes to join her own.

He is sitting on a bench at the far end of the hall, and she takes the spot next to him. “Well, brother,” she says without looking at him. “Quite the kingdom you’ve got here.”

Thorin laughs. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? And it will grow again, and prosper, and we will learn from our mistakes,” he adds, more somber.

“I’m sorry I missed your coronation,” she says, mostly to move the conversation away from that topic.

He looks at her. “So am I. It couldn’t be helped, but I’m sorry for it. Fili was wonderful, though.”

“Of course he was,” Dis replies. “I never expected him to be otherwise.”

“Neither did I.” Thorin shifts. “I know you just arrived, and I would like to hear about your travels and be lectured about my choice of spouse -” Dis barks out a laugh at that, which makes Thorin smile, “- but there is something I would like your opinion on first. I’ve been holding off until you arrived, but I would like to get started as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Dis says, trying to hide her surprise. “What is it?”

“I’d like to create a memorial for the Dwarves who did not live to see Erebor restored to us,” Thorin says. “It will be for all Dwarves, but on it will be the names of those lost in Azanulbizar and the Battle of Five Armies, as I understand it is now being called, as well as our father and grandfather.”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Dis says. “I’m not sure what you want my opinion on, though.”

“I’d like to put Andvari’s name on it as well, as a Second Gift to Kili,” Thorin explains. Dis feels her heart clench. “I wanted to ask if you would mind first, though. He was your husband. I wouldn’t want to cause you unnecessary pain, or do something of which you think he would not approve.”

Dis looks at her hands, twisting them together until she feels able to speak. “I think,” she says, once she has swallowed the lump in her throat, “I think Kili would like that very much. As would Andvari, and as would I.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Thorin’s voice is soft, and a handkerchief appears at the corner of her field of vision. She takes it, wipes her eyes, and looks back up. “I’ll talk to Ori about coming up with a design. Your input, of course, would be most welcome as well.”

“Thank you,” Dis says, and hands him back the handkerchief. “And for the record,” she adds, standing up, “I fully approve of your choice of spouse. It’s Kili taste that I worry about.”

Thorin laughs and stands as well. “I have to talk to Nori tonight about getting a proper armory and forge together again, but I’d like to dine with you tomorrow and hear about your trip.” Dis nods her agreement, and Thorin walks over to where the other Dwarf is sharpening knives with Bifur. He stops on his way to say something soft to Kili that makes him smile.

Dis stands for a moment, looking around her at the groups of Dwarves scattered throughout the hall, and listening to the footsteps echoing from other Dwarvish feet throughout the Mountain, before walking over and rejoining her sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Just in time for everyone's souls to be destroyed with the new movie. Thanks for everyone who's stuck through to the end with me, and left kudos and comments. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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